


Angels Carried Us Away

by aaronwarnerisabeautifulstorm



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Bad Humor, BrOT4, Cameos, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One-Sided Attraction, POV Alternating, Promptis is EVERYONE CAN SEE IT™, Seer!Prompto, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Spoilers, elements from ffxiii-2, this will be a ride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-09-13 10:58:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 47,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9120673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaronwarnerisabeautifulstorm/pseuds/aaronwarnerisabeautifulstorm
Summary: “Prompto Argentum” she said again, even, too calm to be comforting “The journey thus begins, with the abandoned child who is not alone anymore. With the chosen by the Afterlife. With the child hiding behind countless bracelets. With the sacrifice of a server to secure his fate. With a city long forgotten by the light, where the child is born. With the man who wishes ownership of both the child and the destiny denied to him.It begins with the wounded prince and the abandoned boy. Thus the journey bound to shake both this world and the realm unseen begins, for their union is meant to rewrite the prophecies and visions foretold since former times”----------------------------------Or the one where Prompto, armed with just his blood, tears, sweat, his willpower and the blessing of a random goddess, defies fate, destiny and expectations as he forges the future he believes is right. This is his story. (Seer!Prompto AU).





	1. end in the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, there!! I'm back haha. This is my first fic for the FF-XV fandom and I must say this is ridiculously self indulgent. I finished the game at 2:00 am on the 24th and I've been toying with this idea since then, of course after I was able to get my head out of the angst ridden trance I was in. I mean omg that ending was KILLER. I insist, it was two am and I was sobbing in front of my TV screen. Seriously to whoever made the choice of introducing into the game the part where you have to choose one of the pictures Prompto has taken across the entire journey, I just wanna say FUCK YOU YOU BROKE MY HEART WHY. Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked. After I calmed down a little, and because I love Prompto so much and I'm major promptis trash this AU came to me like BOOM bitch. The fact that I'm also noerah and caiusxyeul trash didn't help either. So yeah, this is actually happening, please bear with me and keep on reading :)
> 
> By the way, any grammar errors you may find are entirely on me. English is not my native tongue (spanish is) but I'm aiming to get better at it :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Book starts and book ends

Prompto didn’t know what he was doing or what he was supposed to do for that matter. He stood at the middle of a long line of people waiting to be allowed inside the safety of Insomnia, in his possession only a couple of gils given to him by the lady who brought him there, the torn clothes he was wearing and a bandage covering the black blemish on his wrist. From time to time, he’d find himself touching the outline of it in nervous anticipation and time and time again he would have to pull his hand away, back to his side, drum his fingers against his thigh instead. What a way not to bring suspicion to the barcode underneath, he admonished in his head.

The first thing he was told before being left on his own, “You must not let anyone see this mark”. The woman held his tainted wrist in a strong but gentle grip, her blue eyes shining with a myriad of sentiments Prompto was too young yet to comprehend.

“Do you understand me, Prompto?” He had nodded, hands balled into tiny fists. Everything was going too fast for him but he didn’t want to disappoint her.

“Yes, I do” His voice was too child like for his liking, didn’t help him ascertain his determination.

“Very well. Remember, your name is Prompto Argentum. Your family was…” she fell silent, seeming to struggle to continue speaking. Prompto watched her take deep breaths; her face was turned away so he could not see her expression, covered by locks of sun kissed hair. For some reason, he felt his own breathing intensify, and he started to quiver, pants falling from his lips as if he had been running for miles. He felt like he had swallowed a glass of nails as the blonde lady faced him once more, her eyes moist. “I’m really sorry, my dear boy. This is not what I wished for you. Believe me, if I could, if I was able to, I would spare you from what is to come. If only things were different…”

She paused, the tip of her nose red as the rim of her eyes. “But there is no point dwelling on what can’t be changed. The universe works in mysterious ways and this is the path the Gods have chosen for you so dearest, please, be brave. No matter what happens, don’t waver. Don’t hesitate. Never doubt yourself. Face your destiny with courage. If you ever feel weak, abandoned, or lost, remember you are stronger than your trials. And most importantly, never stop looking at this world in wonder; never stop seeing the beauty in this earth despite the cruelty and pain you have been forced to witness. Enjoy every day as if it’s your last-“

Her voice broke mid-sentence.

Prompto’s vision at that moment was blurry from the tears cascading down his cheeks. He didn’t know why he’d started crying. His chest ached with each painful beat of his small heart, there was a knot at the base of his throat that prevented him from speaking, from reaching out to her and comfort her, take a little from what was weighing her down.

Words weren’t needed. She immediately burst into the tears she had tried to repress for the remainder of the conversation and wrapper her skinny arms around his slight frame, tightly, almost as if she was afraid he’d disappear into thin air. His head rested in the hollow between her collarbones. It felt warm in a way that hadn’t been since Prompto had woken up in his cage in the labs, since he had run away with this unknown lady who had tried her hardest to keep him safe and alive throughout their entire journey to Insomnia and he was infinitely grateful, despite the sadness of the situation. He returned the embrace and let the scent of sunflowers that clung to her skin calm his inner turmoil. He ought to memorize it, the smell, keep it in memory in honor of his savior. He inhaled deeply and knew, though he couldn’t explain why, that this was the last time he would see her.

He sobbed harder.

Her fingers carded through his greasy hair. It was a motherly touch; different from the cold and detached manner the doctors and scientists in Niflheim treated him. He wished he could have this forever, even when he felt wetness on his bare shoulder, where the woman’s face was buried. Maybe she was trying to learn his smell as well, though Prompto had no idea why she would want to.

When he got older, he would wonder why she had risked everything for another random, worthless experiment.

It seemed like hours had passed when the older of the two finally pulled away and the boy instantly missed her warmth. She looked broken, her relatively young face drowning in sorrows the kid had yet to experience.

“This is it.” She said “This is as far as I can go”

He wanted to ask why but felt that deep down inside him he understood. He said nothing, nodded again. Whispered a heartfelt “Thank you”.

She just smiled, a small uplift of the corner of her lips, a little sad, a little happy and stretched out her right hand to cup his sunken cheek. Then, her fingers traveled to his own mouth, pulling at the skin there so it’d look like he was giving her a half smile. “Always smile, Prompto, even in the darkest of times”. Her shaking hand let go and he did as she told him, he gave her a smile, the biggest one he could muster despite the snot and the tear tracks.

“That’s a good one. Just like that” And for the first time, she acted out of character. Sticking her two thumbs up, she copied Prompto’s smile. Brilliant like the sun, contrasting with her very sad eyes.

 It was like looking at his reflection.

“Farewell, my boy. All my hopes, my dreams, my wishes, they shall stay with you”

With those words, she wiped her eyes, straightened her posture and turned around, immediately walking away from Prompto. Her steps hurried down the path they had walked together just minutes ago. Perhaps, if she dared one last look at Prompto, if she slowed down, if she hesitated, she would go back to him. Perhaps, if she let herself, she would take Prompto with her to wherever she was going. Far away from his fate. More and more, she was disappearing, her back getting further away from reach the more she kept walking, her blonde hair flowing with every step she took farther from him and he had an unexplainable urge to run after, grab onto her sleeve, hold onto her. Before it was too late. Before he lost the most important thing.

His right hand reached out to do just that, his fingers seeking the impossible. The limb stayed there, suspended in the air. The figure soon was barely a speck on the horizon. Prompto held his ground, his feet firmly planted even when his heart had soared after her and he remembered every moment they shared (her worried gaze, her urgent tone as she told him to _move, move, we have to go now_ , her warm touch gauging for a fever, the soft lullaby she’d sing at night thinking that he was asleep, nimble hands applying the bandage over his mark, moving from one place to another, praying together, hiding in the woods in fear of the Empire finding them…).

The tears didn’t stop. He felt empty, almost like he had lost a part of himself. Slowly, his hand closed into a fist, went back to his side. Prompto knew he had run out of time and later, if all went right, he would have time to mourn what he had lost, whatever that was.

He didn’t want to disappoint her.

So, he took a deep breath and with his battered soul, he started for the gates of Insomnia, hundreds of people he hadn’t noticed previously making their way towards the same place in search of sanctuary.

* * *

 

_“Is it over?”_

_“I think so. Hell, I hope so”_

_“About time”_

_“Yeah…”_

_“Are you okay? I mean, do you feel anything weird or-“_

_“I’m fine, Noct. Really. Chill out, we just won ourselves the battle of the centuries. Don’t worry about me, yeah?”_

_“He has plenty of reasons to worry, Prompto, and for that matter so do we.”_

_“I’m with Iggy there, just tell us if-“_

_“It doesn’t matter anyway. What matters is that this madness is finally over. Believe me, this is for the best”_

_“What are you talking about? What is for the best?”_

_“You’re freaking us out, man”_

_“The price has to be paid…”_

_“The price? I wasn’t told anything about a price”_

_“Because it isn’t yours to pay, Noct… Listen you all, I just wanted to say, thanks for letting me join you and bearing with me all this time. And I already know what you’re going to say, that I’m your friend and I shouldn’t even have to thank you, but the thing is… I do. You don’t know how long I’ve felt like I’m an outsider but being with you on this journey, you’ve made me feel like I do belong even when I know that I actually don’t. Thank you for rescuing me, thank you for not giving up on me, thank you not shunning me out for being an MT, thank you for supporting me, thank you for making me a part of your family, thank you for making memories with me. Asides from all the bad, and the pain and the loss, these have been the happiest months of my life. Every photo I took, I cherish all of them, and you don’t know how much it meant for me taking them with you.”_

_“Ignis, you’re the best cook in the entire world and I appreciate greatly that you bothered to make all of our meals for us, even when we were being assholes to you. Also, you are like the perfect combination between mother and best friend and I mean that in the best way possible. You always take care of us, put up with our immature bullshit, mend our clothes, play the responsible parent- I mean the responsible one, and all the while you’re the heart of this group. You keep us in our right minds when it all seems lost._

_“Gladio, I was so afraid of you at first I almost pissed my pants on our first meeting but after that horrific impression I can now say that I’m very glad I got to know you. You’re the bully older brother I never had but hopelessly wished for every birthday and I really envy Iris for having such a cool brother. You mess with me seven out of seven days of the week and yes, I do whine about it all the time but truth is, I think is nice of you to act so familiar with me, a random weirdo with a camera who just tagged along. Know that you too are the strength of this team and jokes aside, you were really missed when you were gone”_

_“It was fun riding with you, guys”_

_“…”_

_“Noctis…Thank you!”_


	2. i'll love you for a thousand more (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy always took more time than what was considered normal to answer to his given name.

_Outskirts of Insomnia, somewhere in the future.  
_

* * *

 

“Alge?”

Lindhard watched the boy perched on the windowsill, his knees were pulled up to his chin and a small finger drew senseless things on the fog covering the glass. Her eyes lingered on his knobby knees and pointy elbows, signs that he wasn’t eating enough.

Again.

That worried her, especially since he used to be chubby when he was younger. She could still remember the feel of his swollen cheeks between her fingers, the frown he would give her when she did so.

“Alge?” She repeated a little louder. He didn’t hear her. She said it three times more.

The boy always took more time than what was considered normal to answer to his given name.

He stopped finally; an unfinished silhouette of what she thought was a rabbit beneath the pad of his finger. Her son turned his head her way and she felt a pang deep inside her.

Maybe it was the blonde hair, pointing in several different directions, or maybe the doe blue eyes shining with both a spark of joy and a dozen shadows that hinted at ghosts no child his age should ever know. Maybe it was the map of freckles on his pearl white body, running down his legs, his arms, appeared numerous on his thighs, on his face, on the bridge of his nose. All of them, features he had not inherited from either his mother or father.

And Lindhard knew why.

The face she saw in the mirror was so different from his. Brunette, almond shaped green eyes, naturally tanned skin. Her husband had it worse with his coffee skinned complexion, dark eyes and rough angles where their son was soft…

Every time she saw him, she couldn’t help but feel a stab of pain.

He smiled, lowered one leg so it was left hanging. “Yes, mom?”

“Ah…” She had called out to him instinctually, without really thinking about it. Seeing him being quiet, opposed to how overexcited he would normally act, made her feel a nervous anxiety. She should have been used to it; after all she had been feeling it for years now. “I… I just wanted to know what you were doing. Did I interrupt you, sweetie?”

“Nope” He said, making emphasis on the “p”.

There was a juice stain near the hem of his shorts, the cuffs of his new shirt dusted with crayon powder, his shoelaces poorly tied just like whenever he was on a hurry. She hadn’t noticed him making a mess of himself. He looked as antsy as she felt.

“I was… killing time”

“I see”

She wanted to say more, something along the lines of how he’s never just killing time but then she remembered. Today was the day, of course Alge was acting out of character, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. But truth be told she had forgotten (or had tried to), nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, her son was his happy bubbly self, and in the blink of an eye a week had passed.

It was time.

Lindhard’s hand reached out to ruffle the sunny mop of hair, massaging his scalp while doing so. Alge huffed, secretly delighted and annoyed. “Mom, stop that! I’ll be thirteen soon, you can’t keep doing that anymore!”

 _That’s it_ , she thought. _He’s only twelve. Yesterday he was being born and now he’s twelve and it hasn’t stopped feeling like I’m keeping him on borrowed time. Time we don’t have. Time he does not have._

_Yes, son, I won’t be able to do this forever._

She didn’t voice any of this, she kept these thoughts inside because just thinking about how many people had said the exact same words to him (another woman, in another life, the ones before her), reminding him of the inevitable, was heartbreaking. Why ruin the few moments of happiness he had left talking about what was to come?

 “I’ll do it for as long as I want to. I’m your mother after all” She tried to smile but it felt wrong. Not wanting him to notice her shift in mood, she turned away quickly and went to sit on the living room, throwing over her right shoulder “Okay, I’ll leave you to your ‘killing time’. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do”

Once on the couch, she turned the TV though instead of watching it, she buried her face on her hands.

Twelve years that felt like a lifetime. Twelve years that fell too short.

She had thought her entire life, until Alge was born, that this kind of things only happened to other people. To those in fairytales, those chosen ones, those predetermined by the Gods, those blessed by whoever. Not to her. Never her. She was a simple woman, born into a simple life outside of Insomnia, living in a simple farm house with simple siblings and parents.

She had thought her entire life it would be someone else, not her, who would pick up her son’s drawings and see not a family picture but the faces of strangers, famous but still strangers, staring back at her from the paper. A sturdy man, tattoos all over his arms, a scar on his chest and across his face. Another one, while he was tall not as big as the other, glasses on his face and a no-nonsense expression. Letters addressed to a “Lady Lunafreya”. A girl with a pixie cut and a happy smile. What seemed to be a mechanic. A gray haired mercenary. More pictures kept appearing on every surface in the house, intimate, full of warmth. Gladiolus and Iris Amicitia, Ignis Scientia, The Oracle Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Aranea Highwind, Cindy Aurum …… They were important figures in Eos history, each and every one of them had played an important role in saving the world from becoming the realm of daemons. They also were all long dead. And Alge drew them, read about them, cried out for them in his sleep (and she would close her eyes and pretend she couldn’t hear anything to keep herself from breaking), talked about them with so much fondness…

 She’d jokingly tell her husband, to hide her own uneasiness, that it was Alge taking photos with the tip of his fingers, with ink, colors, markers, pencils, whatever he put his hands on. She pretended it was normal.

She had thought she would never have to quit her job, worried as she got the more Alge grew up and in the end, the increasing fear of losing her first and only son overcame reason. Clark, her husband, immersed himself into working in the city and she tried to ignore that, slowly but surely, he was drifting away bit by bit (it was because he couldn’t handle being too close, too long near Alge for he was terrified of getting attached to what wasn’t meant to last).

It had never crossed her mind that out of all the millions of people in the world, she would have to be the one to see her five year old son freeze in the middle of play time, his eyes widening like plates and in the place where two sky blue irises used to be, a golden symbol take residence. His little body shaking with tremors, her hand over her mouth in horror despite expecting something like that happening, his eyes clearing, his small voice telling her _I’m fine mama, why are you crying?_

She wondered if this was how every woman that had ever given birth to The Seer had felt like. She wondered if all of them had felt as hopeless as she did right then. Knowing that the son she loved with her soul (that they had all loved) wouldn’t last a day over fifteen. Four years, she had prayed in the dead of night for Alge to be one of those rare cases where The Seer actually managed to reach twenty given the late appearance of the visions, like the Original Seer who saved them from the Fall. Her prayers were not answered however. That didn’t turn out to be the case as she understood that day when Alge turned five and had his first-

_Knock. Knock._

Startled from her train of thought, she jumped from the couch, her heart on her throat.

Time of self reflection and self pity was over: **he** had arrived. How had she missed it, the noise of the many engines of cars, of the wheels crushing grass and earth and stone?

Somewhere on the house, Alge made a gleeful noise, a mix of exclamation, gasp and sigh he probably didn’t know he made in these kinds of situations and this time around now that she was paying attention to her surroundings, she heard the sound of his footfalls running to the door. To their guest.

She fixed her clothes before heading to the front door.

The sight that greeted her emerald eyes was a thing of wonder, something she never knew how to comprehend no matter how many times she had witnessed it over and over throughout the years. The door wide open, bright sunlight filtering in. Alge, skinny arms and legs wrapped around the young arrival like a monkey, his face resting on the crook of his shoulder. The man stood unsteady, his hands holding onto the door’s frame as if to keep from falling over; Alge most likely jumped him the moment he opened the door. After regaining back his balance, his arms flew to immediately return the fierce embrace he was being subjected to, crushing the boy to his chest as if it hadn’t been a week but years without seeing each other. While Lindhard could not see her son’s face, she could perfectly see the man’s and even now she was still taken off guard by the unguarded, vulnerable expression full of raw emotion he wore.  Although his eyes were closed, it was so easy to read the relief, the joy, the pain, the… love… he felt…

An ache similar to the one she had felt earlier stung her and she had to look away, a conundrum of opposing emotions fighting inside her. She didn’t know which one she was supposed to listen. To distract herself from the conflict within, she focused on their guest.

Jet black expensive clothes, from his shoes to his head, with his silky black hair, aristocratic features, smooth skin. Handsome and distant, he was of average height but he made up for it with his imposing presence, there was no mistaking him for someone of no consequence. Especially for Lindhard. How could she ever not recognize the young man his son drew the most, who was always on the back of all his notebooks, whose name was written literally and metaphorically on everything Alge owned, who had appeared on the very rainy night the boy was born to change her universe drastically?

He was known by many names. The Chosen King, King of Kings, Immortal King, Savior, Favored by The Grand Six, Favorite of the Gods, King of Lucis. Guardian of The Seer, Noctis Lucis Caelum.

“Noctis, you’re back!” Squealed the blond boy in his arms.

“Of course I’m back, stupid.  We do this every week” The King of Lucis snorted, his intimidating blue orbs open now, trying to go for an annoyed tone but his arms tightened around Alge nonetheless when it seemed like he was beginning to slip.

“Hey, what do you mean stupid? You are the one who’s always late, peas for brains” Muttered a salty Alge.

“Says the one with a chocobo butt for a hairdo”

“That joke is as outdated as you are old man”

“So you do admit it was funny?”

“I never said that. When did I say that?”

“You just did. You called it a “joke” “.

“Ugggh.. .That was so…Why are you like this?...Whatever” Huffed the blond. She didn’t need to see her son’s face to know he was pouting, or at least pretending to do so “You’re the worst”

“And still you missed me”

“I…”

Pause.

Silence.

The mood decreased from light hearted to heavy and glum in a second.

And in an unexpected burst of honesty, the twelve year old confessed softly “You know I always miss you, Noct”

The King froze. Tried to smile but failed, his face was a blank slate. It reminded her of her hand in her son’s hair and her failed attempt to smile as well.

“…I always miss you too, Prompto” He whispered, brokenly. Blue eyes darkened and red rimmed, he looked like one of those people who had shed enough tears to last a lifetime and therefore were unable to cry anymore.

That did it. The whole scene made her feel unwelcome, like she didn’t belong, watching from the sidelines as the two of them shunned the outside world. Even if it ended up lasting only three minutes, that brief exchange was enough for her to see how everything else faded away in the background, how everything was relegated to second place whenever they were together. And the name. That name. The name of The Seer that started it all, she had read about him as a child, had sung poems and odes in his name, had seen the documentaries, had been taught about him in school and being nonethewiser back then, she had admired him. Now that she had seen the real cruelty of fate, she tried to deny his existence, tried to unsee his traces that lived on inside Alge (tried to unsee that Alge was entirely, completely him).

Prompto Argentum. The First Seer in many years and in ways, also The Last. With his peculiar characteristics that Alge, and Godwin, and Draconius, and Pete, and every Seer child before him had been bestowed upon along with that cursed gift. Lindhard had done her research, knew that the similarities the all had in common were more pronounced than what she’d initially guessed.Forever reborn, forever tied to a never-ending loop, forever bound to The King in life and death.

Staring at Alge in those moments, sometimes she thought…

_This is not my son. How many lives have you stolen? How many children have been sacrificed, how many families destroyed so you could be able to reunite with him, when no one else has the chance to…?_

Sometimes she couldn’t help but be bitter, sometimes she forgot she had ever loved the child. Sometimes she wished for something different (for what should have been hers and only hers).

Almost as if sensing her dark thoughts, The King finally tore his attention away from the child and focused it on her. The previous atmosphere vanished into thin air. Chills descended down her spine, her hair stood on end in alert; it was an involuntary reaction to the sudden hum of ominous power that seemed to cling to the man. There was no way she would ever get used to being in presence of royalty, she still had no idea how to act in front of him because no matter how different he acted with her son, that not necessarily translated to how he acted with everybody else. Besides, he was The King, he was…

“I apologize for my rudeness, Mrs. Lya. I must admit I have been caught off guard” he said this while pinching Alge on the arm whom unexpectedly yelped and let go of the King’s neck. The King rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘drama queen’ and he gently put the blond back down.

“What the hell was that for?!”

“Language, Alge!” She scolded automatically.

He jumped and turned around so fast she almost feared he would break his neck. He grinned back at her sheepishly, his right hand rubbing his neck in nervousness, a blush spreading across his cheeks and nose, making his freckles stand out. “Sorry mom, totally forgot you were there, hehe”

Ah…

A cold dreadful feeling settled itself in her stomach.

“Should have named you Forgetful instead of Prompto”

She wanted to tell him to stop calling her son by that name.

What she said was “No harm done, Your Highness. I know better than most how excited he gets when you come visit this little monkey”

“Excited to kick his butt at my new game, you mean” Alge piped in. The blush expanded up to his ears.

To him, The king said “As if” and to her “Oh, right. As usual, I’ve ordered the Kingslaive to stay outside the house. I assure you, they won’t bother you at all Mrs. Lya.”

“That’s quite alright, thanks, Your Majesty”

After that, they all fell into awkward silence. She didn’t know what to say, how to act asides from making polite small talk that would prove meaningless in the end and a waste of time to the two of them.

Alge looked between the two before clapping his hands together “So, the game. Dad brought me a new Justice Monsters, wanna check it out?” It wasn’t really a question, he was already latching onto the King’s hands and pulling him in the direction of his room. Successfully distracted, Lindhard felt that she could breathe again now that she held no longer The King’s gaze.

“Really? Another one? I can still remember when it was just an arcade thing at The Crow’s Nest”

“I know right? Crazy how there are movies and cell phone games...”

Her eyes remained glued to their backs as they ventured further inside the house. Alge whose head barely reached his shoulder (in three years he’d be almost the same height), and The King all dressed in black. Hand in hand. Light and dark. The sun and the moon. The King’s naturally somber visage was softened to the point he could have been someone else, a side of him almost no soul had ever seen and her son’s face was so radiant it was painful to watch him.

Despite her own feelings in the matter, she couldn’t deny, at least not right then, that there was something so pure about it. About them. A sentiment so innocent and so warm it made her think that they had probably found what thousands of others had died searching for. What had made the world turn in and out of itself in search of that one thing that would make it better and whole and happy, they already had it.

In her younger days, when she had nothing to do with Seers and Kings, she would read about them, their story, and think it was the most romantic and beautiful tale there could ever be. Prompto Argentum offered his life to the Astrals for Noctis Lucis Caelum, his beloved. The Gods did not only save The King but gave him immortality as his newfound calling was to be the eternal Guardian of The Seer, who was to be reincarnated over and over. The moment the actual Seer died, immediately after a new Seer was born someplace else in Eos and somehow, The King always found him, as if he could sense Prompto’s location by instinct. She had thought it magical and had failed to see the true cruelty in the fact, too focused on the fairytale aspect to understand reality, because the truth was that by every inch the Gods gave in, there would be punishment. The Gods gave in to Prompto’s whim, their punishment was to condemn the King not to a life but to a lifetime, an eternity of being forced to watch Prompto’s short lifespan slowly fade with each vision, never having enough time with him… It was a loop, a continuum, a circle, there was no end to them. As long as there was a Guardian, there would be a Seer and as long as the Seer lived, The Guardian had to be there by his side.

Lindhard saw that now.

But back then, she had been young, naïve and most of all a dreamer. And she remembered dreaming about sharing the same fate without truly understanding the horror of their circumstances. She remembered being just like any other teenage girl watching the live stream of the royal wedding with her two older sisters, swooning and cooing and wishing for a wedding talked about as theirs. The Seer of the occasion, Wendari if she recalled correctly, was never referred to by his name of birth but as Prompto Argentum. He wore his official Seer clothes with a few changes to make it more appropriate to be wedding attire and The King wore a new version of his royal uniform. The ceremony although grand and luxurious was in no way less welcoming, if anything she could have sworn that during the time of the celebration the world felt a little brighter, a little warmer.

It was tradition for the Guardian King to wed the Seer on the day of his fifteenth birthday, since it was well known that more often than not the young man died a couple of months after turning fifteen and if he was very lucky, he would last to the day the original Prompto Argentum died at his twenty years of age. After the union was ascertained, the Seer would live in the palace for as long as the visions allowed him and he would reign alongside his King. Ironic really, how her younger self fawned over those trivial things but in present time, now that Lindhard was at the center of the storm and it was her son, not someone else’s, the one to die a teenager and get married and leave the house at only fifteen, well… her perspective on things had certainly changed a lot.

Three more years. That was all she had and then, he would be gone in smoke, like an overly long sad dream or nightmare (she could not decide) she hadn’t been able to wake up from. Maybe when it finally ended…

 No.

Absolutely not.

Taking a deep breath, she composed herself. How surprising really, she had never known how self centered she could be. She wasn’t like this, today was a weird day, she wouldn’t normally act in this insensitive way, feeling resentful towards the King of Lucis, even towards her own son. She had been nonstop complaining, behaving more paranoid and wary than usual. What was wrong with her?

The answer was glaringly obvious: she was burned out. However, that did not excuse her. It could not justify thinking of Alge as a thief of lives. Or anything she had thought of.

Guilt began to surface like stomach acid, for each negative thought she had had Lindhard felt like hitting herself in the face. Guilt for blaming the King, for not making an effort to understand outside of her own problems because in the end, even if she was suffering it could never compare to how the King felt, now couldn’t it? After all, for Lindhard, it’d be just once. Painful but only once. On the other hand, how many times had Noctis Lucis Caelum already lost Prompto Argentum? In five hundred years, how many Prompto’s had he seen open their eyes to a new world only to see their light perish in what, for him, must feel like a minute? How did he still retain his sanity? How was he able to take care of his people and bear the burden of playing Guardian to a dead end? How could he still love Prompto, despite everything?

 Amazing, unbelievable but true, The King had never looked at no other but his Seer, never married anyone else, never tried to produce an heir. His eyes were firmly centered on Prompto Argentum no matter how much time passed. And yet the pain he had to feel… she could not even begin to imagine…

Worse than that, to fathom the pain Prompto himself has to carry-That Alge has to carry-

She felt a drop fall on her hand. She looked down. It was a tear. Shaking, she raised trembling fingers to her face and felt the wet trails… When had she started crying? Better yet, how had she ended up sitting on the couch again? Losing time, that was not good. Had she been that immersed in her thoughts she had not noticed the world turning around her? This was worse than the episode earlier.

The woman stood up and reached for her phone lying on the table. She turned it on, unlocked it, checked the hour and found herself surprised at the numbers on the screen. Two hours had passed since The King arrived!

Hurriedly, she went to look for them certain that a something that had been eluding her the entire day would be revealed when she found them. Soon she realized they were not inside the house and it was only when she looked out the windows in the back of the house that she saw them. They were sitting on the grass, the King uninterested in the state of his dress pants with his legs folded, his arms at his side supporting his weight and Alge was sprawled out on the ground, pointing somewhere up above.

She stood there inside the house, her hands pressed against the window pane, seeing them in a new light. Again doing something she wouldn’t normally do. What she would normally do was leave them to their own devices until it was time to say goodbye but there she was. Today was a day for change, it seemed.

They talked. They laughed. They messed witch each other like they were both five year olds. Like they had known each other their entire lives. Like they were simply two best friends hanging out with each other after school despite the age gap. Like she used to hang out with Clark and her gang of friends in middle school, then high school. And there was actually nothing remarkable about them. They looked normal, comfortable, and natural together; every reaction and interaction was spontaneous and yet while being nothing out of this world it felt still…

It felt meant to be.

The more she watched them, the more she began to see a truth about herself. The reason why she had acted so stingy all day long. It wasn’t just only because she was burned out. She understood finally, as she observed them interact and witnessed the air of finality surrounding them, how the King looked at her son like he was everything and how Alge returned back the stare. Seeing them act so happy when they knew what was coming.

A fact. A truth. A dormant realization. Lindhard had given up on Alge since The King had knocked on her door the night he was born. She had already let go of his tiny hand, she had let go of his smiles and seeing him grow. She had given up from the start and that was what was eating her inside, corroding her soul.

 But had the King of Kings given up on Alge, on Prompto? No. The universe kept beating him down, spitting on his face and yet he had not given up on him. He was still there, holding onto the impossible, holding on onto what was not meant to last. Her resentment steamed from nothing else but that, her own inability to cling to her child knowing he would die (she was no better than her husband).

Outside, The King was laughing loudly at something he did to Alge. Alge rubbed a muddy hand on the other's face and in return, The King took a handful of grass to decorate Alge’s hair. Alge… no, Prompto Argentum stuck out his tongue and then burst into giggles, swatting the King’s hands away from his hair.

Lindhard, dry throat and dry tears, wondered if The King would ever be able to let go.

If he would ever _have to_ let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any thoughts, want to share some ideas, some headcanons, how to make it better, how to expand this universe, some fan art (I'd be so honored),want to collaborate, whether you liked it or didn't, or simply leave a review, don't be afraid to write to my personal tumblr: thirstyforhughdancy or comment right here on ao3 <3 Thanks for reading, I love you all


	3. pity not my destiny, no

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An eight year old Prompto tries to maneuver his way through adult interactions. Plus, some consequences of war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Holaaa!!! I'm back with a new chapter before I began classes again *sighs* Writing ths chapter was a nightmare, Jesus Christ. It continued to get longer and longer and longer. I'm very happy that I managed to finish it today since I don't know if I'll have much time to write the fourth this week.
> 
> Anyway, I was wondering if you'd like me to post miscellaneous things here just as sort of extras or bonus. I mean, I've been doing some crappy edits for this fic and I'm in the process of making a playlist. Also, I've been thingking of creating a side blog in tumblr dedicated to the fic, where I'd be posting too extras, bonuses, edits, updates regarding the fic, (meaning if I'll take longer than usual writing a chapter, tentative dates for updates, fragments of chapters) or if you would like to make some fan art you're always welcome as well, and so on. If you're interested in any of this ideas please let me know in the comments <3
> 
> Well, with nothing else to say, please read :)

The wall rose tall in front of everyone gathered around it. A titan of stone separating them from their goal, preventing them from reaching haven. Prompto was among those lost souls waiting to be allowed inside. Currently the gates were closed. Out of nowhere a fleet of people had arrived from everywhere across Eos with a common goal: they were all seeking refuge from the Empire.

It proved for the guards who had been running the checkpoint a hard task to examine every newcomer, especially as the flow of human masses increased at alarming speed. They decided that the best course of action was to move the checkpoint behind the wall, let small groups in, so they could be more efficient doing their work and had the chance to rotate guards if necessary. Prompto at that point had been at the front of the line and was disappointed to have to wait more hours before he was let in. Seeing the gates close in his face felt like an open palmed slap.

He sat against the remains of what had once been the wall of a house-this was not surprising in the slightest. Scattered across the area were ruins of every kind, empty shells and abandoned bones of human civilization. Like him, families huddled close to them or settled on the ground, anywhere with an open space available.

From his safe spot, he watched human nature unfold before his curious gaze. Soon, he discovered that scenes like the one he lived earlier (his hand in the air and the only real thing he had ever known walking away, away) were quite common in this place, and maybe even worse.

Next to him, a woman dressed in dirty rags tried to convince her daughter to go ask for food pretending to be sick. “That way they ought to give you lots of sweets” she gave her a yellowed, dirty smile. On his other side, a man was saying goodbye to his twin sons-they didn’t look older than six-, reassuring them about their safety once they were inside Insomnia. The boys stared at him with big puppy eyes and demanded loudly the reason why he was not going in with them. He just shook his head in an exhausted manner. One meter away, a girl who had once been very pretty, Prompto could tell, stared vacant at one point over the horizon, holding a one sided conversation with herself. Her long red hair was made more of wood and dirt than hair; her hands were as bloodied as the long skirt covering her legs, occasionally drops of water would fall on her lap despite her completely blank expression. The couple positioned near the girl threw cautious glances at her from time to time while keeping their children close. “Don’t get close to her” he heard one of the moms warn her child.  A father soothed his newborn; he sang a lullaby too low to reach Prompto’s ears. On and on the carnival of tragedy repeated its cycle: some wept, some cried, some walked around in circles with no direction in mind, some were in groups, some were alone, others argued, others like him kept away from everyone else…

So this was war, the boy mused in mute horror, hugging his knees in a vain attempt to keep his body warm. Locked up as he’d been, he hadn’t really known what was going on in the outside world, never cared to know either when he had to fight to maintain consciousness and whatever it was the doctors supplied him with. The only thing that seemed to matter in general, to everybody alike whether they were inside the labs or out and trying to survive, was satisfying basic needs. Food, water, clothes, anything to keep the cold at bay… Which reminded him he was about to become an iceberg. The tips of his fingers and toes were almost numb from the lack of use, he knew the smartest thing was to get up and get his blood running but he was afraid of losing his spot and therefore missing his chance to enter first. But he could stand the cold, he was used to it. From the freezing floors of the laboratories to the nights in the wild Prompto was more than prepared to face low temperatures, that hadn’t been an issue to begin with. The real problem was the growing void in his belly, that’s what was slowly killing him and forced him into a curled up position with the hope that if he stayed that way for a while the pain would go away.

It didn’t.

Prompto swore he felt the stomach juices eating him from the inside, melting the walls of his stomach at a speedy pace. He was aware of the similarities between himself and the skeletons he and the lady-whose name he could not remember, had she even told him?-had stumbled upon on their journey. Easily swept by a breeze, small, thin, hollowed cheeks, eyes that looked bigger in his languid face, bones that threatened to pierce skin in the collarbone, hips and spine areas- he was one step away from becoming a walking corpse if he didn’t find something to eat and for everything that was holy and sacred he did not want to cross that line.

He stood up, determination to look for something edible propelling him to move his rigid limbs. What a bother, thinking in hindsight, he realized how utterly stupid he was. If only he had the foresight, no, had been smart enough to get some food when the chance showed up; a committee assigned with the task of bringing food to the pilgrims came out of the walled city around noon and Prompto, distracted doing useless people watching, paid them no mind until it was too late and all the food had already been taken by the hungry hordes. Now thanks to his lack of common sense he was dying of hunger and thirst, alone, surrounded by strangers even more desperate than himself.

Out of pure frustration his eyes began to water. He was a rightful mess. Why did he have to be alone anyway? Why didn’t he have a family? He was just a kid, he wasn’t made for this, had no idea what to do or how to handle himself on his own. The other human being he had interacted with the most was the lady and why did she leave him too? At least back in Niflheim he hadn’t had to do anything on his own, he was ordered and forced but he hadn’t had to survive. Being on his own in a suddenly too wide space that wasn’t limited to four walls and narrow hallways was the hardest thing he ever faced. Escaping from Niflheim couldn’t compare, not really, after all the blonde woman had been the one to plan everything, every choice, every move, to what territory they’d be moving next, where they’d stay for the night, where to hide, where to eat, what to eat, what to wear. She did everything. She knew everything.

And albeit her efforts to teach him what she knew, there he was freaking out. It wasn’t even that he hadn’t learned, it was just that he didn’t know how to apply that knowledge in real life.  In the real world. Alone.

Tugging one of his dirty yellow locks to bring himself out of his head and back to the now, he walked to the gates. His worn shoes didn’t help the process one bit and he felt the entire magnitude of Lucis’s soil on the soles of his feet, pebbles particularly. He didn’t know what compelled him to get to the gates but somehow, he could almost hear a faint feminine voice (was it a voice? It was more like pure sound in the form of a melody) telling him to move forward.

Which he did.

His hand grazed the rusted material of the giant door when he reached it, his ivory skin versus the blazing dark material. He felt infinitely insignificant in front of such a thing, as if the wall that contained it wasn’t sufficient proof of how small they all really were. As he thought this, suddenly the door moved inwards leaving his appendage touching the empty air. Startled, he took a step back almost tripping over a nearby rock.

Ten guards came outside with their solemn faces and dark uniforms and as soon as they did, a commotion began. People began to agglomerate around them, a million voices drowning the guard’s exclamations to keep quiet. Prompto heard something about letting fifty people in; families, sick, injured and children first, but the crowd was getting wilder and he was glad he’d moved close to the gates just in time, otherwise he would have probably died in the middle of the riot. Being stepped on to death was not the way he wanted to go and he shivered because it wasn’t such an unlikely scenario at all, especially in the current situation.

The craziness continued for a while until the guards managed to get a hold of the chaos. Prompto’s ears still ringed from the loud noises but he was a little calmer now that everyone had backed off except for those who were supposed to enter next. They were told to form a line, flanked by the guards. Most of them the boy recognized since he had been watching them a few hours ago. He tried to turn his head to see if he saw anyone else but the guard at the front of the line, hence in front of him, whispered viciously “Move, kid. We don’t have all day”

Well, then.

He wasn’t even going to be allowed a moment to feel relief.

Blushing up to his ears due to the scolding, Prompto followed the guard inside and-

Stiffened immediately at the sight that greeted him.

It was not because of the couple miles of greenery-he had seen enough of it-, it was because in the distance stood outlined against the late afternoon sky the silhouette of Insomnia. Beautiful, modern and yet full of something magic, not alike the full on inorganic and cold Niflheim. His jaw opened, his heart sped up with a newfound emotion he could not describe, had not felt before. After many travels and hours and hours of restless waiting there it was. The famous city, the so called haven. Promised Land.

The sound of the gates closing behind him couldn’t rattle him then.

_Could this be it?_

_Could this be home?_

The guard snapped his fingers at him, impatient, breaking through his reverie and Prompto automatically zeroed his eyes back on him.  A side of him was still (amazed) dizzy and he wasn’t sure it was consequence of the hunger.

 After the extremely rude guard had everyone’s attention he finally spoke “Very well, listen to me carefully because I’ll say this only once. I don’t have time to repeat myself so pay attention” Prompto had to bite his tongue to avoid saying something stupid, like calling him out on his lies since he was clearly repeating stuff “Now, raise your hand those of you who are injured or ill”

 

Fifteen hands went up in the air. They were told to come forth and were escorted somewhere else. Prompto stared intently at the floor while that happened; he did not want to see anymore blood today, much less suffering people.

“So, the rest of you are going to proceed to the screening phase. First, each of you will be assigned to one of the tents here in camp where you will wait for the respective officer in charge of interrogating you. ”

Camp?

Prompto dared to look up and was surprised to discover that yes, they were in a camp, standing in the middle of it actually-tents of all sizes surrounded them, acting like a barricade. Every now and then, men in black went inside them, came out, repeated the process. He had been so focused on the main city he had failed to notice where they were.

“If you pass the interrogation, you’ll be then transported to the city where further instructions will be given. Any questions?”

The silence was deafening. Not a soul spoke up, not a noise was heard.

“Perfect” the guard seemed satisfied at not having to deal with them any longer than necessary “Kid, you’re up”

The man grabbed him by the arm before Prompto could compute the fact, could order his legs to move, could prepare himself for whatever ‘interrogation’ was supposed to mean, and in ten seconds they were crossing camp, in one more they were inside a unoccupied tent with poor lighting and in the next he was sitting on a plastic chair, a table across from him and another chair on the other side. The guard had already turned his back on him when he commanded Prompto to not move from his sit and just like that, he was left alone again.

He fidgeted, feeling his excitement slowly yield to a mix of expected fear and anxiety. What was going to happen to him now? He didn’t know.

His fingers flew once more to the bandage on his wrist, he touched the border, felt the temptation to slip his pads underneath and trace that small detail that made him different from everybody else. He had forgotten, as preoccupied as he was with surviving and not messing up. It was back though, like an itch that would never cease to be, no matter how hard he scratched it. In this moment, he couldn’t think he had ever been more aware of it and with good reason, he was going to be interrogated and if anyone saw his mark… He’d be done for.

_“You must not let anyone see this mark”_

The boy thought he had been doing a good job but at the same time he knew it only took a distraction, a millisecond for everything to go awry.

He folded his legs on the chair, rested his elbows on his knees. Looked nervously around the space only to find it devoid of any furniture, not counting the two chairs and table. His hands got covered in sweat and he wiped them furiously on his bony thighs.

Twenty minutes of sweating and imagining and wishful thinking passed when at once, the interrogator officer entered his tent. Prompto let his feet touch the floor and peeked at him with a deer-in-the-headlights look. The man ignored this and sat down in his chair, opposite Prompto, pinning him with his own heavy look capable of stopping time. Or at least, it felt like that to Prompto who was thoroughly intimidated and he hadn’t said anything yet.

He was not like the other guards, that he could tell. The scarier attitude was not by far the sole hint. The man wore a distinct uniform, same black from head to toe but clearly a variation from the usual guards Prompto had seen up till now. A black jacket, black pants, black boots that barely reached his knees, and what scared Prompto the most was not the long Japanese sword in the man’s hand but the fact that he wasn’t wearing any protective armor.

The thought ‘one-man army’ came to his head and he had no idea where he had heard that expression before but it felt appropriate at the moment.

Prompto’s legs and arms shook minutely, synchronized with his tear ducts that started to fill up for the second time that day. It became worse as the man posed his hands on the table, leaning forward and Prompto flinched back as if stricken.

Surprised, the man’s eyebrows rose up to his hairline.

Prompto trembled and glued his shoulders to the back of the seat.

The man put his hands up, palms open in a placating gesture “I’m sorry” he said in a soft tone, his voice a low baritone “I didn’t mean to scare you”

The boy’s eyes flew to the sword he had resting against his side, it was a knee jerk reaction. The man followed his gaze.

“Ah, that. As I just said, it wasn’t my intention to alter you, kid, and I’m not here to hurt you either. That’s a fact. I just have to ask you a few questions and I’ll be out of your hair. I promise you won’t have to see anymore weird people dressed in black with swords to scare you”

He spoke certain, with a determined weight to his words that added to everything he said an unquestionable feeling of wanting to trust what he was saying. The man gave him a tentative smile that at first looked strange on his tough face, although it didn’t diminish the real aspect to it.

And that was enough for Prompto. That it was real.

(Real like the lady’s smile. Broken, pained and sad but very much real)

He started to relax and felt he was able to breathe once more.

He nodded in sign of understanding and the man’s smile became wider. He extended a hand out to Prompto for him to shake and he only stared at the appendage in a second of hesitation before deciding that it was fine and let his small hand be engulfed in his calloused, warm one. (Was this how a father’s touch felt?)

“Guess we started on the wrong foot, little guy. I should have introduced myself. My name is Cor Leonis and I am a member of the Crownsguard-“

“You work for the King?!” Prompto found himself yelling in wonder and winced right after. His throat hurt, his voice filled the air raspy and hoarse from disuse. He hadn’t spoken the entire day except to say to the lady he understood, furthermore he had not drunk a drop of water since then. It was no wonder he could not talk without feeling his throat on fire.

The man, no longer a stranger, stood up and walked out of the tent. He returned a minute later with a plastic cup filled to the brim with water and offered it to Prompto who took it most gratefully, drinking it all in one shot. The cold liquid soothed him as if he had taken a potion to heal his abused throat. Finished, he left the empty cup on the table and muttered a low “Thank you”, afraid of speaking too loud and hurting himself in the process.

“It was no problem. And to answer your question, yes, I do work for The King so to speak”

“Cool!” he couldn’t help but say excitedly “What is it like?”

Cor Leonis chuckled “I would love to tell you but I’m afraid it would take me the rest of the day to explain how it works. Maybe another time. Why don’t you better tell me your name so I can stop calling you kid? It bothers you, does it not?”

How could he know? Could he read minds? Displaying this uncanny ability again, the royal guard said “You frowned a bit when I called you kid the first time. That is how I knew”

Oh, okay. Fair enough.

The boy, for what felt like a lifetime, turned up the corners of his lips. “I am Prompto Argentum. Nice to meet you, Mr. Leonis” He smiled.

_“Always smile…”_

“Nice to meet you too, Prompto-“ Mr. Leonis abruptly cut off his sentence. His eyes widened and sharpened at once, as if he was seeing Prompto in a new light. As if he saw something in Prompto he hadn’t seen before, alarming enough to put him on edge.

The blond child blinked, confused. His throat was dry again.

“What?”

His mouth opened up like a gaping fish. And closed. And opened. And closed.

Ice cold, biting and piercing “What did you say?” The other stood up and Prompto cowered in his seat, sensing the drastic change in the mood.

“I-ah…I.. P-p-p-promp-to Argen-tum…” He stuttered, wracking his brain, trying to understand what could have possibly gone wrong. His only clue: the code number seared permanently on his skin. He pressed his fingers of the contrary hand to the marked wrist and held on until he could no longer feel the blood flowing. Could it be that…?

“Argentum?” Questioned Cor, loudly. He moved towards him. “Did you say Argentum?”

He nodded frantically “Yes!”

Cor stopped, looked at him as if it was physically painful to.

“No way…“ he murmured then raised his voice “But that’s not possible! What are you doing here? You are not supposed to be here” Prompto started shaking his head, he didn’t know, he didn’t know, but Cor seemed possessed and kept firing question after question. “This makes no sense! What is going on? Where is your family? What happened to…”

Prompto thought his head was going to fall off, moving it frenetically from side to side like he was doing but what else was he supposed to do? Family? Sense? His purpose for being there? It would be a blessing to actually know.

“What happened to your mother?! Where is she?!” This Cor asked with desperation. The older man seized him by the shoulders with a strong grip, forcing Prompto’s fear right to the surface.

He broke.

He remembered his “training” for the interrogation. The blonde woman sitting across the campfire, asking in a monotone and professional tint about his family. He was to answer: dead.  He was alone. The empire invaded his village and killed everyone in it. He managed to escape on his own and had been traveling ever since. Heard from someone in his journey about Insomnia becoming a sanctuary to all. He was eight years old. Would turn nine soon.

But despite all his training and practice, nothing had prepared him to deal with a scenario like this. The rug had been pulled from under his feet and all the words, the truth and lies transformed, joined in a jumbled mess of thoughts that begged to be released. And he couldn’t take this anymore.

He was screaming.

“I don’t know! I DON’T KNOW” he shrieked, twisting and turning and crying and releasing “I don’t have a mother, I don’t have a father, I’m alone!!! Everyone is DEAD. I’m eight years old and I’m ALONE. The Empire KILLED THEM. I have nowhere to go. I don’t know what to do and they’re dead and I don’t know what is real. I can’t remember!! I CAN’T REMEMBER! I DON’T KNOW!!”

He kicked and sobbed until he felt his lungs give up and his vocal chords turn mute. Cor let him go, taking his hands away like he had been burned. He backed away, one step, two steps, three steps, so on to the point his back was to the entrance of the tent and the space separating them felt like a chasm in the middle of the room.

He stared at the screaming boy with fear and things Prompto could still not understand. He realized he hated adults, incredibly. Why did they all look at him as if he had done something wrong? As if he had hurt them? When they were the ones who hurt him and on top of that made him do things he didn’t understand?

In the end, he made such a ruckus other guards and officers came running straight for the tent to see what the source of all the noise was. A skinny, blonde boy crying his eyes out, folded over his chair and The Marshal, vulnerable as he had never been in the battlefield, frozen in the spot.

Snapping out of whatever was going through his mind, the man turned to the guards and ordered someone to take care of the boy. He had important calls to make- he said, not looking at anyone. The interrogation was over, he was fit to go- he said. Load him up, I’ll take him myself, he said.

 Cor left the tent and Prompto saw him leave through his blurry vision.

A female guard strode towards him. She got closer and closer, and Prompto didn’t want her or anyone near him. He yelled at her precisely that. She paid it no mind. She wore a kind smile but he didn’t trust, couldn’t trust so he buried his face in his knees and prayed for everyone to go away. Soon, he felt a soft hand in his hair, another one rubbing his back, the woman saying “Shhhh, it’s okay, it’s okay…”

But it wasn’t okay.

It just wasn’t.

He rocked back and forth, back and forth, and tried to think he was somewhere else. Anywhere. He imagined he was on a train, feigning sleep. The pale light of the moon bathing his face that rested against the cold window and the words to a song known by few entering his ears. He focused on that. On the song. Although he could only remember truly a few lines…

 _Sooner than memories begin to fray_  
_Everything from a past just swept away_  
_Remembering when all who have gone are now lost_

 What came after remained lurking at the edges of his memory. He held onto those lines, held on for dear life, drowning out the foreign touch of the guard and the other voices. He drowned the voices of the outside world. Slow but sure, he tuned them out; overcome by the lyrics of a song he could not remember entirely…

 Prompto passed out.

 

* * *

 

_It was dark. Everywhere he looked there was only darkness. He tried to make out his hands and his feet in the dark. He couldn’t see them. He touched his face, his neck, hands traveling over the expanse of his body to check if he was whole. If nothing had been eaten by the abyss._

  _Click. The sound of a door opening. Prompto turned around fast as lightning and was faced with a big mirror, frame made of gold-the beautiful, smooth glass showed him his own reflection. He wondered how he was able to see the mirror when he wasn’t able to do the same for his body._

_He stepped close._

_Suddenly, fog emerged from what Prompto believed was the ground (wherever his feet were planted) and rose waist high. The fog gave an eerie glow, coiling around the base of the mirror. The blond hoped it was not an ill omen._

_Closer._

_And closer._

_In front of the mirror, he stood. Torn white t-shirt, dirty sweatpants that fell off his hips, mop of blond hair, cracked lips and wide eyed gaze. That was Prompto Argentum at eight years old._

_Until he wasn’t._

_The image turned increasingly hazy, the features he knew by heart morphing into something else. Again, there was Prompto. Eight years old. Still blonde, still blue eyed. But his clothes were different and his complexion healthier. His skin was a rosy color he didn’t recall ever having, and it didn’t stretch over his bones. He actually had baby fat around his face, his arms and legs looked natural and not like the arms and legs on a corpse._

_The other him wore strange clothes. What seemed to be leather bands tied on his biceps, numerous bracelets on both wrists, a weird kind of diadem made of feathers adorning his head, white shirt with tribal themes made of something he could not recognize, white shorts, boots crafted with some random animal’s skin. A transparent veil covered half his face, tied to the diadem._

_The two Prompto’s stared at each other for ages. If one moved a certain way, the other replicated the move perfectly and so on. They observed each other, knowing they were inherently the same._

_And then the Prompto from behind the mirror let out a soft gasp. His hand reached out to him. He didn’t need to speak, Prompto immediately knew he wanted him to take his hand. When their palms connected, the rarest thing occurred. The other’s eyes seemed to center on something beyond, something Prompto could not see and out of nowhere, his eyes turned to a strange shade of yellow._

_The blond, the one with the ragged clothes, for some reason, felt his heart bottom out to his stomach and tried to pull away. He couldn’t. The other boy’s grip was too tight. He tried to speak but sounds wouldn’t come out and the only thing left to do was watch the other Prompto moan in pain, that alarming yellow clouding his orbs until he himself, felt an ache deep inside him, so deep within it left him reeling, tired._

_Then, a burn in his sclera and the next thing he knew, he was able to see no more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to you for getting to the end of this mess (I seem unable to turn off the angst but that will be fixed soon, I promise) Hope you liked it and if you have any thoughts, recommendations, feelings whatever you want to talk about, please leave a comment. Or write to my personal tumblr----------> thirstyforhughdancy
> 
> Thanks and see you on the next level!!!
> 
> (Guess where the title of this chapter came from >:D )


	4. half truths vs half lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor and Prompto have a 'heart to heart' while still keeping some secrets to themselves.

The boy woke up with a stinging headache and a burning sensation in his eyes, his heart still racing from the nightmare. He didn’t want to open his eyes, afraid of what he would see if he did. He pressed them closed tight to avoid opening them by mistake, and wondered whether he was really awake or asleep.

After that first thought, his sleepy consciousness started to detect other things. His neck ached in a very particular way, sore and throbbing he’d felt this many too times and knew it only got like that when it was bent in an awkward position. The right side of his face was plastered against something slightly cold and smooth-glass, maybe?- and light vibrations rocked his body gently from time to time. His bum rested on top of some sort of seat that was really soft and comfortable. So he was sitting. The question was, where was he sitting exactly?

Curiosity made him want to see where he was, open his eyes, but a deep fear inside prevented him from doing it. It was like the primal fear of the prey that kept it from wandering too far. Something was not right.

He shifted a bit.

“You’re finally awake”

Unexpectedly, someone spoke.

Prompto’s eyes flew open immediately, his back collided hard with the door from the surprised jump he made. The seat belt was too close for comfort to his neck but he didn’t care enough to do something about it. There were things more important happening right now.

It was Cor Leonis who talked, face severe and too many frown lines on it for his age. For a second, Prompto forgot why he had been scared in the first place, remembering the true smile the man had given him and his kind voice apologizing for having scared him, introducing himself. That was ruined however, when the other memories resurfaced _(screaming, shaking, was that his voice, what was going on, let me go!, I don’t know, I don’t know, don’t touch me)_ and a chill descended down his spine. Oh no.

“No” he said out loud. He couldn’t stop it, it was natural. Without really thinking about it, his hand moved to the door handle and tried to pull it with all his strength, as little as he had.

He had to get out of that car!

“Could you please not do that?” The man said calmly, his eyes never straying from the road ahead.

Prompto ignored him and continued his failed attempt at escaping for as long as he was able, in hopes that sooner or later the door would yield and he would-he would what? The boy froze momentarily, his gaze on his hand over the handle.

“I…”the royal guard, taking advantage of the moment of tranquility, began again “I am terribly sorry, Prompto, was it?”

Despite his wariness and panic that thrummed furiously in his chest, despite the little voice in his brain telling him to get away from him, the boy found himself listening intently, turning slightly in the man’s direction. He said nothing, fingers itching on top of the handle.

Seeing he now had the blond’s attention, he continued “You’ll come to see I am not exactly well versed in apologies but if nothing else you certainly deserve one. I… don’t know what came over me then. It is not like me to act in such a barbaric manner, especially to a child. You must think I’m a monster with how I treated you” His icy blues looked briefly at Prompto, who still said nothing.

“I can’t explain exactly why…” he drifted off, shook his head “…Again, I’m deeply ashamed of what I’ve done and how I acted, but I know that no amount of simple apologies is enough, words are just words until proven true. I thought that if I at least-“ Cor stopped, reached for something in the backpack at his feet.

Prompto, conflicted, watched him pull that thing, whatever it was, from it.  He was offered the object and he had to blink twice to realize it was a paper bag. A delicious smell came off from the bag and his stomach whined in recognition, his mouth watered instantaneously.

His worries, fears, emotions, suspiciousness, they were all gone at the aroma and sight dangling in front of his face, ready for the taking.

Could it possibly be…?

Cor’s eyes went back to the road “I imagined you’d be hungry after everything you’ve been through. I’m aware this is not nearly close to making up for what I did, but it’s a start, I hope”

Through mid-sentence, Prompto snatched the bag violently from his hand, putting it on his lap and opening it savagely. He hadn’t heard half of what he was saying, anyway. His greedy fingers found what he was looking for and when he exposed it to the cool environment inside the car, he almost cried out of pure joy, he actually felt the tears piling up.

It was a burger. A greasy, smelly, burger full of meat, cheese, sauce and other delicious ingredients. He couldn't remember when was the last time he had seen one of these or had an appropiate meal, maybe two weeks, maybe it was two month ago.

Prompto dived right in for the kill.

He was in heaven, he decided, biting the burger with desperation. The taste, everything about it, was a remedy for the ache in his stomach that had been haunting him.

Cor saw this unfold with a small smile on his lips. When the kid was on his third bite, he handed Prompto a bottle full of some red liquid. The boy didn't bother to ask what it was or where it came from and just took it, now both his hands occupied by things that hours ago had been dreams of a far away past, the delusions of a boy going insane due to thirst and hunger.

He finished his food and juice in ten minutes flat, his fingers and cheeks a dirty mess of lettuce and mustard. Finding himself at a loss, he turned to the royal guard with pleading eyes "Please, tell me there's more"

The man raised an eyebrow; still, in the blink of an eye another paper bag materialized on Prompto's hands; he beamed happily and began to devour it, no hesitation whatsoever in his movements.

 "Don't mind me, have your fill" Cor said jokingly, a humorous tint to his voice. It was a little bit soothing to hear the man so relaxed and not yelling like he had lost his mind.

Once the void inside him was partially satisfied, the pain in his tummy taking a back seat place on his list of priorities now that he could think clearer, he ignored the part of him that yearned for more- he could have eaten way more, there was still a vacant space that needed more food though he decided to wait for later, when there were no answers to be given and the company was less disquieting-and wiped the corner of his mouth, a vain effort since his hand was even dirtier than his face.

Cor took pity on him and provided him with napkins. Prompto accepted them with no hints of the desperation he had shown before at the sight of the burger and cleaned the grease off his fingers and cheeks carefully, biding his time.

Cautiously, he peeked at Cor from the corner of his eye, twiddling his thumbs. He remembered  his hands on his shoulder, squeezing, his intimidating words; he remembered the friendly smile, the warm handshake, the kindness he had shown him… Where did that man go? What made him act that way? Though at the present moment, he had done nothing to antagonize Prompto- on the contrary, he apologized and even fed him all the while being earnest about how sorry he was. But could he really trust him?

Prompto chose to take a leap of faith and asked in his small, childish voice “Why?”

Cor turned his icy stare on him but said nothing, he waited for Prompto to continue.

“What..” he faltered. Stupid, useless nerves blocked his windpipe. He took a deep breath. “What did I- what did I do wrong?”

He looked at the man with big, sad blue eyes “Was it so bad what I said? Was that why you got mad at me?”

He half expected Cor to change back to the man he had been for a terrible period on the tent; that aggressive morphing of features that had scared him so much taking over the calm expression. But it didn’t happen. Cor instead gazed at him with concern.

“You did nothing wrong, Prompto” he sounded guilty, pained.

Nevertheless, he kept staring, willing an answer out of the man. He wanted to know what had he done to deserve such rough handling (it reminded him too much of unknown hands grabbing him, touching him, hurting him if he didn’t behave like a good boy should) and Cor noticed this. The royal guard sighed, his hands tightening his hold on the wheel and didn’t utter a single thing for far more minutes that Prompto didn’t bother counting; it was like he was carrying an argument with himself, deciding what to tell him or not.

“I need you to tell me something first” he said at last.

Then, to Prompto’s surprise, Cor pulled up to the side of the road and stopped the car. The engine died with a quiet hum. Prompto’s eyes widened like saucers, the situation was getting more serious apparently.

“What you said back there,” Cor began, low and rough, as if it was physically painful to speak “, was it true?” Seeing the boy’s confusion at the vague statement, he clarified “When you said your last name was Argentum, was that true?”

Prompto nodded, yellow strands flapping with the action.

Cor nodded as well. His Adam apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed and a frown emerged on his face.

“And when you said your family was dead, that the Empire killed, was that also true?”

Prompto should have answered, with no doubts or hesitation a simple ‘yes’. Prompto should have said what he had rehearsed over and over. Yet, he didn’t do anything of the sort. For some reason, he didn’t feel like lying to Cor in spite of what had transpired earlier. All the same, he had made a promise- he couldn’t tell him his origins, where he had come from and how he had gotten there.

So he opted for a half truth.

“I… I’m not sure, sir”

Cor’s frown deepened “But you said-“

“I was scared!” surprisingly, he cut the man off “I was scared. I didn’t know what to do. But I really don’t know for sure… what happened to them. I don’t even know if I have a family. I… I can’t remember lots of things”

“You don’t remember?”

“No, I don’t”

“Are you sure about that?” Cor pressed for answers.

“Yes” Prompto insisted “Just colors and flashes…”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. He truly couldn’t remember much about his past. He had no memories of anything different from darkness, distant voices, foreign touches and hallways, red lights, a weird man calling him ‘good boy’-whose face he could not conceive-and a bunch of completely abstract images. Yes, he knew he had been in some laboratories of a kind, that he lived in Niflheim but those were facts grounded deep inside his very being. He wasn’t able to explain it to himself well, but it felt like those were things he knew for sure by instinct not because he had experienced them. He recalled emotions but couldn’t recall the situation that had brought them up in the first place.

 He remembered the cold floors, the cold everything, but the people, what he had been doing in that place… It was all very vague and ambiguous; he could not say exactly what his life had been like. If anything, the moment he had started living, seeing, thinking, remembering with clarity was that day the lady broke him out of that not-life of monotony.

The sun on his skin, the breeze through his hair, her fingers wrapped around his thin wrist and her white teeth as she said _“_ _You are out, you made it. You are free_ _”_ _._ Those were his first real memories. He was reborn on that day.

In other words, he had lied but not entirely. He owed that much to the lady and to himself. His wrist burned.

For his part, Cor still looked unconvinced. Prompto hurried to explain “All I know is that I woke up in Cle-clai,no, Cleigne, is it?” Cor said a dry ‘yes’. Whatever. “There, a kind granny found me alone on the shore and saved me. She took care of me for a few days, she even offered me to stay!”

That was a heavily edited version of the story he was supposed to tell.

“Why didn’t you?” threw the man immediately. He didn’t look necessarily suspicious but he seemed to sense Prompto was hiding something from him.

He was being tested. Prompto opened his mouth, closed it again, and thought about what he had to say.

He tried to convey what was closest to his heart’s desire.

“Because the only thing I knew was my name and that I needed to go somewhere” He was filled with determination as he pronounced every part of the sentence, elevating his eyes from his shoes to Cor’s blue gaze.

“Insomnia” Cor filled in the gap for him. The man caught up quickly onto the implication he was making.

“Yes” thus the eight year old agreed “Since then, all I’ve thought about is getting there. I heard the name of the city and I knew I had to go. I believe… maybe…”

He imagined arriving to the beautiful city. Thousands and thousands of nice people welcoming him, inviting him, telling him he was home-and in the middle of the crowd, a sun haired lady standing, her arms wide open as she tells him _Welcome home._

“Maybe I’ll find my family there…” he finished, feeling an unquenchable hunger inside him; not exactly for food. No, it was for something he couldn’t describe quite yet.

The Crownsguard expression had softened considerably by then and he only looked at the boy with sympathy. “You haven’t had it easy, little boy. How did you survive so far?”

“People are very kind here in Lucis. I don’t know where I would be without their help”

That much was true, if it hadn’t been for their kindness, he and the lady would have never made it to this point. The granny from the story hadn’t been a total lie, only the part about her finding him on the beach.

“How old are you?”

“Eight”

Cor’s eyes widened slightly. He was about to say something but thought better of it. His fingers tapped a rhythm Prompto didn’t know on the steering wheel. Introspection time was back with a vengeance and the boy decided to leave him to his thoughts.

He directed his eyes forward and that was when he finally had the opportunity to see it again. Buildings on the horizon greeted him, the hot afternoon sun giving them a blinding glint that even from such a distance was quite noticeable. Insomnia. His breathing accelerated and his heart pumped blood stronger. Oh Gods, if only they were headed that way….

…..And

….What perfect timing to realize he didn’t know where they were going or what the time was for that matter.

He had the attention span of a goldfish, he berated himself strongly. As he mustered enough courage to break the silence again and ask for the time and their destination, Cor Leonis took the choice away from him “So, you are telling me your name is Prompto Argentum. You’re eight years old. You are completely alone, you don’t know how you ended up on Lucis ground, how you turned out to be on your own and you came to Insomnia because you think your family might be waiting for you there, correct?”

He hummed his agreement. That was pretty much it. Except for the part about ‘family,’ everything was accurate.

“Alright, then. Lucky for you, we’ll probably be arriving in Insomnia in thirty minutes, give or take”

“For real?!” Prompto yelled, unable to reign in his excitement. His prayers were answered!!

“Yes, for real. You _did_ pass the interrogation, remember?” saying this, the man smiled at him. The tension he had before had somehow vanished, no semblance of it was to be found in this brand new version of Cor Leonis. What changed?

That reminded him…

“You never told me”

“Hm?”

“You never told me why you got so mad. I told you what happened to me, now it’s your turn _”_

The man seemed taken off guard by Prompto’s direct demand-he went from zero to one hundred again, face draining of all humor as he pondered the easiest way to explain what had happened.

“You’re right. I do owe you a reply. But it’s not as simple as…” he frowned; worry lines marred his forehead “I guess I mistook your last name for the one of a person I used to know a long time ago and when you said that your family was dead I…” his voice died. The emotion he was wearing was complex enough for Prompto to be confused as to what the man was feeling. Was he trying to convince himself of something…?

It took him a while to regain his composure “It doesn’t matter one way or another. What’s important is that I mistreated you. I can’t apologize enough times for what I did. I hope you do find it in your heart to forgive me”

He looked at Prompto who stared back at him, thinking about what he just said. Going over every event that had happened since he woke up, every interaction, and every word said, and concluded that despite all the unpleasant events before, Cor was not a bad person. He needed to loosen up more, and maybe practice his smiles in front of a mirror but asides from losing his mind over the thought of someone dear to him being gone… He was fine. He could relate to how he felt anyway.

Prompto smiled and offered his right hand “I’ll forgive you but on one condition only”

“Ah, so that’s how it is now?”

“Yeah.”

The man huffed and turned on the ignition, a gentle purring indicated it was alive and ready to get back on track.

“Okay, what do you want?”

“I want more of those burgers you gave me” Prompto admitted, smile turning sheepish.

The Crownsguard grinned from ear to ear, shaking Prompto’s tiny hand with a strong grip.

 “Prompto Argentum, you’ve got yourself a deal”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm using this space here to thank you all who have read this story. I'm still impressed whenever I look and see the story has been clicked by almost 2000 people and has 118 kudos <3 So really, thank you very much to all of you beautiful readers who have read it, commented, bookmarked it, etc, etc, you're the best!!! Stay awesome y'all


	5. welcome home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home, sweet home: Insomnia

The sun was beginning to hide, forcing the orange sky to fade into a lovely shade of purple, when they finally arrived at Insomnia. After passing countless stops, and checkpoints where lazy guards were supposed to be doing their work instead of sleeping-Prompto spent a five minutes straight laughing at one of the guys’ face when he saw it was Cor and no other fellow guard or common citizen driving the car-Prompto was going to finally witness the greatness of his newfound dream: the maze of industrial life that made up his future home.

Not paying attention to Cor’s concerned voice rambling on about safety and other unimportant things at the moment, Prompto rolled down his window and stuck out half his body outside the car. Wide eyed, he took in the sight ahead. Millions of giant structures rose up from the ground, towering over the ant sized cars in comparison-it was a party of both old and new styles that showed on the buildings formed entirely of transparent glass and the ones that resembled, in their gothic design and appearance, some of the ruins Prompto had seen outside the walls.

 It was everything he’d expected and more, and what amazed him the most was the incredible amount of human life thriving on the streets, the loud cacophony that was the city’s spirit poured out of conversations and exchanges that mixed and combined into relaxing background noise. Music the boy would never get tired of listening for the rest of his life. Nothing akin to the frightening quiet of the wilderness and the soft murmur of voices as he slept in a trailer.

Everything inside Insomnia was a stark difference from the harsh almost rural zones of Lucis he had seen accompanied by his blonde savior. He called to mind Lestallum as the only vaguely similar location to Insomnia but even so, it paled considerably next to this wonderful metropolis. He had traveled great lengths to get to this place and now that his mission was complete, he had to admit the wait had been well worth it.

A feverish furor took over him then, and he felt like yelling his excitement to the entire world. He would have probably done it, if suddenly a hand had not grabbed him from the back of his ruined shirt and pulled him back to the car seat.

“Hey!” Prompto whined, turning his head to give Cor the stink eye.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, boy. Do you have a death wish?” grumbled the man. His stink eye put Prompto’s own to shame but he wouldn’t let that deter him.

“No, sir”

“Then why did you do that? You are extremely lucky you didn’t lose your head out there. Almost gave me a heart attack”

Prompto’s bad humor brightened a little “Were you worried about me?” he questioned curiously.

“Of course I was” Cor said as if it was glaringly obvious “Who do you take me for? No, wait. Don’t answer that”

The boy latched quickly onto the words he spoke, ignoring the last part. The man was worried about him. He cared about Prompto’s wellbeing.

He grinned from ear to ear “I see”

“Eh?” Cor muttered, his expression one of confusion, maybe wondering if Prompto was brain damaged.

“Thank you very much” Prompto sang, a healthy blush rushing to his cheeks and ears. Warmth he had only felt during those days in the fields with the lady hit him at full speed.

The royal guard’s look of utter bafflement he directed at the boy because of the comment was totally uncalled for.

“You…” the worry lines made their awaited reappearance while Cor battled to find a way in which to tell the boy the message he wanted him to understand.

“You’re a very strange kid” he settled for that.

Promto’s eyebrows elevated to his hair line. He fidgeted in his seat, rested his chin on his palm, looking at the man’s concerned eyes.

“How am I strange?”

In his defense, he did want to know. He needed as much information as possible on functioning in normal society, since he was painfully aware of how very much inept he was at it. A flan most likely possessed more experience when it came to dealing with people than he did.

Cor moved his head from side to side “Normally, no one would thank someone for caring about them. That is a given”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? Has no one… Look, it’s natural for people to care about each other. That is the way of human nature. Thanking them for something as basic as that is not necessary. You don’t need to do it”

Prompto hummed, not convinced one bit by his words. To him, it did feel important. How many people out there really cared about the safety of others? They were few for sure. He had to cherish every real moment he was shown and what better way to show his appreciation than by thanking them for their sincerity?

“Still, thank you” he said from the bottom of his heart, smiling innocently.

Cor scoffed at him, saying under his breath something similar to ‘stubborn brat’. Cor was a man who tended to scoff a lot, Prompto had come to understand, but he didn’t mind. Much.

Rolling his eyes the boy rested his elbow on the open window and watched the scenery fly by them. The wind brushed the hair back from his face and cooled the fine layer of sweat on his skin. He took in the sight of lights illuminating each and every corner of the city; it was beginning to get dark after all. Naturally, that train of thought led him to conjure up the horrors that lied waiting behind the walls, making untimely appearances on the roads at night when unfortunate drivers found themselves caught with nowhere to take refuge.

A question he had procrastinated since his conversation with Cor half an hour ago begged to be spoken.

“Sir, what is going to the happen to the people waiting outside Insomnia? Will they…” he shivered, thinking about how close he had come to that scenario himself. He hoped with all his heart for that to not be the case for those poor souls who hadn’t had the chance to at least pass the gates. “Will they be eaten by daemons?”

Just as he asked that, they arrived at their destination. They were not the only ones there; many cars like the one Cor was driving were parked across the expanse of the street bordered by empty houses. The royal guard turned the car off and sighed-another attitude he repeated a lot-, rubbed his temples using his index finger and thumb.

“You know a lot, don’t you?” Prompto didn’t know what to say to that so he just nodded “Have you seen one yourself?”

He had. Sometimes when he and the lady had stayed out late they’d encountered them. She was the one who fought while he hid behind bushes, trees or ruins depending on which area they were in at the time. He had watched scared out of his mind as she defended him fiercely.

Of course, this was an anecdote he could not tell Cor.

“No, I haven’t” he lied through his teeth, knowing it was impossible for a child to survive on his own when the world was covered in darkness “I only traveled when the sun was up in the sky but I did hear many travelers talking about them”

“Thank the Astrals for that. You wouldn’t want to see those ugly sons’ of-Sorry, ugly creatures”

Prompto agreed weakly.

“Anyhow, nothing will happen to the people outside. The daemons don’t dare approach the wall, not even when the sun goes down and even if they did, a squad patrols the perimeter every now and then. They’ll be fine”

“Oh.” The boy felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. However, Prompto’s curiosity was nowhere near satisfied “And why do the daemons stay away from the wall?”

“What do you know of Lucian history, Prompto? Probably not much, am I right?” Cor asked this with genuine interest in his tone. He looked animated in ways he hadn’t been before. Maybe he liked the turn the conversation had taken.

He was right. Prompto didn’t know a lot about this new, big territory he found himself in. He recalled a few conversations with his temporary guardian that ended going down that route, something about a Crystal, and kings but he hadn’t been paying attention then, disregarding the information as unimportant. He shouldn’t have.

“Yes. No, I mean, I don’t know. Lucian history, that is”

He hated when his mouth got ahead of himself.

“Fine, no problem.  First things first, do you know what or who The Astrals are?” This he did know so he answered positively. “Very well, then you know The Astrals, along with some mystical beings that remain unknown to us, created everything that we know of. Everything we see is because of them. Do you follow?”

“Yes, I do”

 Cor continued promptly “According to the legends, The Astrals one day bestowed humanity with a gift. That gift was the Crystal, the greatest source of magical power in existence. It is said it was given to one chosen king of Lucian lineage along with the Ring of the Lucii, which enables its wearer to use the Crystal’s power as they see fit in exchange of their life force. For generations, the Kings have made use of the Ring to protect Insomnia from daemons and Niflheim’s forces. On account of this power is that this city has survived the long years of war”

Prompto’s engrossment with the story had increased exponentially the more Cor Leonis talked. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know it all. It was like a piece inside him he had never understood abruptly gained meaning. Something deep inside him yearned for the unidentified at the mention of a Lucian king; he felt a spark of recognition somehow.

“Where is the Crystal right now?” he inquired, tone full of wonder.

Cor pointed one finger to the distance, up above, and Prompto’s gaze automatically followed it. The Royal Palace was what his awed eyes met.

“Somewhere inside the Citadel lays the mystic Crystal” Cor said ominously “Where exactly, well, that is for me to know and for you… to never know”

Having said this, the member of the Crownsguard wearing a satisfied smirk climbed out of the car and left the boy frozen in his seat, dumbfounded and jaw hanging wide open. Prompto stared numbly at the palace in the horizon until he finally snapped out of his surprised trance and scrambled to get out of the car and confront the man.

“That was mean!” he yelled once he stood on the sidewalk next to Cor.

“I know, that is why I did it” noticing Prompto’s pouting face, he added in his low baritone “I’m sorry kiddo, it’s not that I don’t want to tell you. I just can’t reveal the location of the Crystal to anyone. Maybe, in the future, you’ll become part of the Crownsguard and have the opportunity to find out for yourself”

He put a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder and Prompto had the slight suspicion he was still being made fun of so his pout turned even more exaggerated. The man ignored this, signaled with his thumb at a point behind him and told Prompto “Now, stop that cheap manipulation and let’s go. We have still a couple of things to do”

He turned his back and began walking down the street. Prompto groaned.

Oh no, he wasn’t done yet? He walked on Cor’s right side, staring at his shoes and threw the occasional glance in the other’s direction. What else was needed? All he wanted at that point was a warm place where he could sleep and if possible, another one of those heavenly garulea burgers. He didn’t think he was asking for much.

From the corner of his eye, he spied guards walking up and down the street, some alone, others were accompanied by small groups of a maximum of three people and entered vacant houses at random, with no discernible pattern.

“Where are we anyway?” he asked too loud for his liking and colored a bright red. Quickly, his face turned to the very interesting pavement.

“This is a special neighborhood, Prompto. It was inaugurated recently on King Regis’ orders, made specifically for the people who came to Insomnia in need of shelter. This is where you will live too, once we settle everything on record and get you checked up”

That actually sounded quite nice. He only had to hold on for a while and he would finally be truly, really free. His spirit soared and he hurried to match Cor’s long strides, arranging his posture to seem taller, puffed out his chest in naïve determination.

At the end of the street a medical post was set. Two women, three men and five children formed a line in front of it. The adult’s faces were grim while the kids were half afraid, half happy. Perhaps their journey hadn’t been as fun as Prompto’s had been.

 A woman with a long braid of dark hair in a white coat examined a kid in the post, who seemed a few years younger than him.

Rompto’s blue eye rested too long on the woman, the medic. The doctor.

He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

His throat felt clogged with something and he had the sudden urge to throw up. He stood, shaking and a lump in his throat prevented from speaking and why on earth was he panicking. _White_ , his mind supplied, _the white coat_. Knees shook and that nervous sweating was back again.

His body, in Insomnia. His mind, in Gralea.

What was real, Cor’s worried visage, or the faceless doctor injecting him with a serum that caused him terrible minutes of temporary blindness while hands grabbed him under the arms to keep him from moving around too much?

He closed his eyes. _Deep breaths, Prompto, deep breaths._ Said softly the blond haired woman, her smooth palms cupping his cheeks, telling him it was alright, she was here, he was here. He was real.

Her presence, imaginary or real, always kept him grounded in the now.

When he opened his eyes she was no longer there at his side. Cor was, long fingers on Prompto’s bony shoulder and his other hand pressed against his forehead, gauging for a fever maybe. Prompto, after regaining consciousness and remembering where he was, gently moved Cor’s hand away from his face. Tried to bring a smile to his lips.

“I’m alright” he said as firmly as he could, given the circumstances.

 _I’m alright,_ he repeated mentally looking again towards the medical post where everyone had turned their heads in their direction. He was strong; he was here not somewhere else. His little hand curved in a fist. Before he was able to change his mind, before could Cor interrupt him again asking about his state, Prompto moved towards the post decidedly. He had made it this far, he had lived things no other kid his age should, he knew that much; he had thrived where others would have failed, he wasn’t going to keel over this small obstacle.

Of course, a firm grip on his wrist deterred the boy from his mission. Cor looked down at him with a dead serious expression-he probably didn’t appreciate Prompto ignoring him in such a situation, after the number he’d pulled.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re clearly not alright. What on earth was that?” The man didn’t even let Prompto answer, immediately turning his head in the direction of the medical post and shouted “Risa!”

The woman in the white coat, whose name now Prompto knew was Risa, told something to the man she was examining, then grabbed a few things from the van behind her and ran towards them. Prompto had no idea how she did it while wearing high heels, the braid swinging from side to side. She stopped one meter away from them. Impressively, she looked composed as ever, not even the slightest sign showed she was out of breath.

“Sir, what is the matter?” she asked not really looking at Cor, instead her stare focused on Prompto who tried to disguise the tremors that ran up and down his small body.

“I’m not sure. One second he was fine, and the next he almost fainted. He didn’t even notice me calling out his name. What do you think?”

The black haired woman leaned down to Prompto’s eye level. A tentative smile formed in her heart shaped face. “May I?” she gestured to his forehead, Prompto meakly said yes, swallowing his fears like a bitter pill. The back of her hand felt cool against his skin and he sighed in relief quietly. The touch that followed was on his neck and just as fast as it began, the hand was gone.

“Hmm, he doesn’t seem to have a fever. It could be anything. I will need to do a proper checkup”

“Do what you must” She nodded severely, pulled out a walkie talkie out of her back pocket and requested for someone to cover her at the post. She said some other things but Prompto tuned her out, fidgeting where he stood. Cor was unnervingly silent too.

Once done talking, she put the device back where it belonged and looked at them again.

“If you’d follow me, please” she offered her hand for Prompto to take. He tried to not think too much about it as he did as he was supposed to and took it.

He was in Insomnia. No one was going to hurt him. Not anymore.

She walked to the closest quarters, Prompto falling into step right behind her. Cor moved to follow them but the woman, Risa, shook her head no “I think it would be best if we talked in private, with all due respect, Sir.”

What? Dizziness overcame his senses and thought that for a cruel moment, it was all a nightmare. No, this could not be happening. His desperate eyes found Cor’s icy glare expecting him to do something about it. He had to say no. There was no other way, right?

Cor stared between him and the woman. Silence stretched on for what felt like a lifetime, all the same the man said nothing. He was speechless-his orbs met Prompto’s two, three, four, five times and what he saw there was too complicated to understand. He looked conflicted but in the end, clicked his tongue, jaw abnormally tense and growled “If you think it’s absolutely necessary”

No!

Prompto’s eyes begin to water yet he could do nothing as the woman pulled him in the direction of the closest house. Why was this happening? He made a pathetic excuse of a sound when he tried to object, say anything to stop this craziness from happening. The woman’s hand felt like a vice. His eyes did not stray from Cor, left standing in the middle of the street looking lost, not even when the door closed right in front of him.

 As it did, Risa let go of his hand, looked at him with poorly concealed pity.

“So, what is your name, little one? I’m Risa Walker, maybe you heard my name from The Marshal, haha. Nice to meet you”

Prompto did nothing. Just peeked at her from under his yellow bangs.

She bit her lip and interlocked her fingers together “I won’t hurt you, you know that? I’m a doctor, you know what a doctor is?”

He frowned, of course he knew what a doctor was, he was not stupid.

“Ah, if you know what a doctor is then you must know we’re in charge of taking care of other people’s health and I just want to make sure you are one hundred percent healthy, okay?”

Well, besides from acting annoying, she didn’t seem like a bad person.

“My name is Prompto” he whispered to the silent space.

“There we go. Not hard at all, wasn’t it? Let’s take a seat, shall we?”

Why did she have to turn everything she said into a question, he wondered as they walked to the living room where they sat on the couch. He put as much space possible between them, him on one end, Risa on the other.

 Absentmindedly, he took a look around the house. It wasn’t anything fancy but it gave off a calm feeling he could get used to and maybe with a little bit of love, of life and human hearth then it could turn into a real home. He tried to focus on that and not the fact he was alone with this unknown woman.

While he pondered this, Risa took a notebook and pen out of her handbag and looked at him expectantly.

“So, your name is Prompto…?” she asked in her high tone.

“Argentum”

“Okay” she wrote that down “How old are you?”

“Eight years old, I’ll be nine on October 24th, I think”

The pen stopped moving “You think?” she asked, tone taking a sharp edge.

“Yes… I don’t remember…” He proceeded to tell her the same made up story he had fed to Cor, praying she’d believe him as well. He spoke slower having learned his lesson after that time, knowing he had to sound convincing. He imagined his blond guardian giving him a ‘thumbs up’ and that animated him further.

He finished his retelling, palms bathed in sweat. Risa, surprisingly, looked entirely nonplussed, her expression a blank slate. It was very off putting, especially taking in account how easily she switched personalities from pure business, to annoyingly childlike then… nothing. She just stared at him. And stared. And opened her mouth, her eyebrow twitching slightly “What you’re telling me is severe, young boy. You don’t know where you came from; you don’t know if you have a family…” She went on, listing everything the boy had told her, and at some point it was more like she was having a conversation with herself than with him, almost as if she had forgotten about his presence in the room.

Succeeding this strange turn of events, dark eyes peered at him from equally dark lashes “Maybe…” her voice drifted, “Prompto, you started feeling faint when you saw the medical post, is that right?”

He blinked “Faint?”

“Like you were going to pass out” she corrected, grave and direct. He answered ‘yes’. She nodded and was that a hint of worry in her pupils? “Could it possibly be that this reaction of yours has something to do with the reason why you can’t remember lots of things?” He frowned in confusion. She was clearly trying to imply something but the nature of that implication, Prompto did not know. “Okay” she started anew “, this might sound a bit weird but I want you answer this as truthfully as you can. No excuses or anything of the sort. Prompto, did you ever have, let’s say, a bad experience with doctors?”

His heart jumped to his throat. His eyes couldn’t help but widen minimally, and his heart rate increased. His fingers on the thighs of his pants shook alarmingly. What to say…

“I..I don’t think so?” he stated, sounding like a question rather than a firm affirmation “It was the white, I saw the white and I…. felt bad.” Conveying the nasty thoughts again, he gave her the best puppy eyed look he could muster, tears springing immediately to his eyes. His lower lip trembled “Please, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I don’t know what is happening. Please” he begged in his whining voice and he saw how it took immediate effect on the woman, who suddenly lowered her eyes guiltily.

He sniffed for a better result. In his ears, someone’s voice resounded _(“Remember, if someone asks you something and you’re not sure of the answer or don’t know what to say, then start crying”_

_“Why do I have to cry?”_

_“Because most of us are weak in the face of a child’s tears. That is the best weapon you have, my boy. Understand?”_

_Bright blue eyes. Long sunny hair. Pale green dress._

_“Okay but I don’t like it. Isn’t it like lying?” he asked, naïve, so innocent. Always naïve._

_“Yes, it is like lying. You don’t have to like it, it’s just that sometimes we must do things we don’t like in order to stay one day longer in this world gone mad”_

_“It’s too much effort for just one day”_

_“It might be, but I assure you, in the end, it will be worth it. You’ll understand when you’re older”)_

“I did not mean upset you. I just needed to make sure…” Risa muttered unsure, apparently shaken now that she had to deal with a panicked and frightened eight year old boy.

“I don’t remember. Is it important? I feel fine now. I want to find my family” he found himself throwing all these unconnected thoughts one after another. He was truly agitated.

Rubbing her palms, she tried to pacify him “You’re right. You’re safe now, as long as that holds true, whatever happened in the past does not matter” Was she lying to keep him calm or were her words for real? He didn’t care. He just wanted this new interrogation to be over.

“Eh, how about we move on to other questions. What do you think?” the woman picked up on his discomfort and chose to play it safe for the moment. Prompto shrugged and melted into the back of the couch, feeling strangely both restless and exhausted.

What followed was a very long and boring sequence of questions and answers he didn’t bother dwelling on. What did he like, what was his favorite food, what was his favorite color, had he eaten anything? What his experience outside the walls had been like, and so on and on and on.

Afterwards, thanks to the Astrals, they moved on to the physical examination part. By then, Prompto had calmed down, he didn’t feel any residual dizziness or anything of the sort, and the mind numbing fear he had felt faced with Risa an hour ago was all but gone. The woman had proved herself as a non-threatening person, despite his initial wariness she was just a normal doctor, trying to do her job in the best way she could. Whether she managed it or not was another matter entirely and it was plain obvious she needed more experience.

She measured his height, from feet to head, and from the tips of his right hand to the tips of his left one. She’d brought a scale with her (how had he not seen this?) and measured his weight too. It was a normal check up through and through, nothing unusual about it. He was asked if he had any injuries. He said “Bruises and scrapes”. Nevertheless, she still looked him over in search of anything more serious, and gratefully found nothing that warranted worry. Prompto felt shivers every time her fingers brushed against the bandage on his wrist serving as a cheap version of a bracelet, yet she never brought it to attention, never mentioned it. Still, he repeated a mantra in his head, praying she would not notice it.

Everything was running smoothly. Until the instant her mouth opened to say she was going to take a blood sample.

Prompto’s eyes snapped up to her and gaped without meaning to. “No” he yelped, backing away from her. And really, how was he supposed to react when the image of a needle still made him shake?

The needle piercing his skin, the void in his chest and the bilis rising, ready to be released.

“No” he repeated, glaring at the woman “I hate needles”

“Prompto” she said, exasperated and with a notion of warning. “This is the last test and we’re done. I won’t bother you any longer, so please-“

He shook his head. The thought of letting it anywhere near his arm disturbed him a lot. He didn’t know how to control this irrational fear, how to fight the slightest thing that reminded him of his days in Gralea.

She buried her face in her hands like he had done hours ago inside a tent not quite close to Insomnia. So she was human too…

Sighing terribly, Risa put her hands down and said “If I tell The Marshal to come inside and accompany you, make sure I don’t do anything bad to you, would you let me take the sample?”

Prompto’s stance relaxed somewhat at the mention of Cor (he still didn’t know why she referred to him as The Marshal though). He trusted him enough; the man had made a promise to him after all, to not let any harm come to him be it by his hand or any other’s. He considered this, thought about his freedom laying just one breath away- if he took this last step, he would finally have it.

Making the final choice, he accepted the offer. Palms grossly wet with sweat, knees and calves trembling uncontrollably as if the ground had decided to do the same, but still accepted.

The whole ordeal only lasted a few minutes and ultimately done, Prompto had to admit he had overreacted somewhat. It hadn’t been the traumatizing experience he’d feared since Risa had unwrapped the injection. Actually quite harmless, it hadn’t hurt at all; a mosquito bite would have been more painful, he thought and with Cor encouraging him, telling him everything was going to be alright... He was acting too similar to the lady, making it impossible for him to not feel at ease.

At any rate, at the present moment he stared at the slim container that now held his dark blood. It disappeared from his sight, however, when Risa introduced it inside her handbag with careful precision. Cor, who was standing next to the couch where Prompto sat, inquired “Got everything you needed, doctor in training Walker?”

She paused while zipping the bag, throwing a glance in Prompto’s way. “Actually, there is something I need to discuss with you, Sir” her wary tone gave her intentions away.

“By all means” Cor gestured towards the kitchen where they would have their talk apparently. Before going, he warned Prompto to stay put and not wander off to which the boy agreed with a satisfied grin. 

They left and he stretched his sore limbs on the comfortable couch. He sharpened his ears to test if he could grasp a clue at least of the discussion they were having in the kitchen but he wasn’t able to hear a thing. Not very concerned about it, he yawned. Gods, was he tired. This day had been pretty eventful so far, and he said that after living through the strangest and weirdest circumstances. From being left to fend for his own by the person he cherished the most on this world, to long hours of waiting amongst a giant crowd of people (seeing their misery and their sadness and their desperation) until he was finally let in only to be yelled at by a very intimidating royal guard… Yes, another crazy day in the life of Prompto Argentum.

Sometime during his inner monologue, he fell asleep on the couch, unable to keep his eyes open for longer than two seconds. This time, he dreamt of nothing. His sleep was peaceful and very much needed, he deserved it after all the things he was forced to go through.

_Sooner than memories begin to fray_  
_Everything from a past just swept away_  
_Remembering when all who have gone are now lost_

A female voice, singing heartfelt lyrics, in a never-ending loop.

_Forever united, forever bound._

By the time he woke up, he felt exceedingly better; a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. All the same, he was bothered by the melody haunting at the edges of his memory; words he could not understand where they came from accompanied that song. He knew it was had heard it somewhere-Oh, right, the lady-

But, what on earth did _Forever united, forever bound_ mean?

He wracked his head for answers, finding none in conclusion, Not even one fragment of ambiguous memory to make him understand what that was about. The lady had not said that for sure, so who had?

“Sorry, did I awake you?”

Prompto, now used to drastic interruptions, looked for the source of the apology.

Cor was leaning against the side of the couch, looking down at him. The dark circles under his eyes looked more pronounced in the moonlight and-wait, was it night already? Prompto blinked surprised. He had slept a long while, it seemed. The light of the moon filtered in through the windows, making vague shadows and silhouettes.

“No, you didn’t” he answered to Cor’s statement. “Where is Risa?” he craned his neck to see if she was anywhere near him.

Cor denied with a movement of the head “She left a long time ago” he also added, clearing his doubts “It’s ten past midnight, if you were wondering”

“Oh”

The boy sat up leisurely, raised his arms above his hand and pulled. Thoughts about songs and lullabies and thoughts that were not his own, were all forgotten. For the moment, at least. His bones creaked in response to the action. He… was happy, actually, that she was gone. The doctor was a good person but they got along like water and oil, he couldn’t have lasted for one than one hour longer breathing in the same room she was in.

A bulb turned on inside his brain “So,” he gave Cor a questioning look “what did you talk about?”

“Nothing of importance” the man replied too quickly to actually be true, although his expression was closed off enough to cause Prompto a migraine so he decided to let it slide. It was not what he wanted to know with all his heart, anyhow.  

What he wanted to know was “Did I make it?” the words rolled off too eager, too anxious. His heart was a hummingbird fluttering its wings in his ribcage.

Was it done? Did he have to do more or was he finally, finally part of this bright, brave city?

Did he finally belong?

Cor Leonis’ tough features softened into a happy smile. He closed his lips tight, pronounced not a word up to the point Prompto started shifting awkwardly in expectation of what he was going to say: good news or bad news.

At last, when Prompto felt his lungs were going to fail him, the man spoke joyously.

 “Of course you did it. Prompto Argentum, after excelling at every screening phase, is now officially a Crown City citizen. Congratulations, kiddo!”

Prompto’s entire universe fell and turned on its axis. He swallowed, his mouth as if it had a life of its own, beamed widely, for the whole world to see the great amount of happiness the blond child experienced in that instant. Prompto Argentum was not a nobody anymore. He belonged somewhere. He had a home.

_I did it._

_I did it!!!_

 He teared up with tears of joy; almost twenty four hours ago he had been a lost kid in the center of a too big world, with nowhere to call home, no one to call a friend except for the one who had left him. Now, he was his own person. He was free.

_Can you see me, lady? Wherever you are, can you feel me, this happinesss?_

_Are you proud of me?_

Without thinking of the consequences, he threw his arms around Cor’s torso and embraced him, trying to translate with the hug all the emotions he was feeling. He was so thankful to this man, despite their horrible first impression. “Thank you” he laughed. “Thank you so much”

Cor stiffened, not used to hugs from weird, mysterious and problematic eight year olds named Prompto. Or just simply not used to hugs in general. However, three seconds in the hug and he returned it fiercely, feeling quite happy himself. He ruffled the boy’s greasy hair.

“Why are you thanking me? This was meant to be from the start. Welcome home”

At this comment, Prompto’s eyes flooded and wet trails descended down his cheeks, down his chin and fell to the floor. He laughed hysterically, wiping his face with small, dirty fingers.

Just after, his eyes found their replica in the reflection granted by the window, and for an instant, he was distracted from the gleeful realization, from Cor’s  cheerful words, from the warmth of his arms. He didn’t see the torn clothes, the dirty everything about him, his almost brown yellow hair from dirt and other things-he didn’t see the man hugging him back…

Because for an instant, in only an instant… he thought he saw a flash of glowing yellow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts and theories in the comments <3 thanks for reading


	6. tales shrouded in mystery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite chapter so far.

The book was too far up. That was the conclusion Prompto reached as he stood on the tips of his toes and tried, ineffectively, to grab the green tome resting on the top shelf of his closet. His small fingers barely came up to the second one, no matter how much he stretched. He didn’t even know how the book had ended up there.

Upset, he fell back on the balls of his feet and went to look for something he could step on. He trekked the space he now knew as well as he knew the lines and calluses on the palms of his hands. Familiar and safe, those were words had had begun to associate with his new little home. He had memorized every corner, every crevice, and every part of the house that currently belonged to him. Had spent hours laying on his back just watching the ceiling, watching the furniture, watching the tiny specks of dust shining bright with sunlight, thinking of how not too long ago having a roof over his head was a blessing.

Thirty seconds later he returned, chair in his possession, and lowered it in front of the open doors of the closet. He climbed on top of it and managed to grab the sneaky thing once and for all. He still had no clue on why it had been there in the first place but let it rest, he’d think about it in another occasion, when he wasn’t so anxious to keep reading. Book in his grasp, he walked to the living room. The afternoon sun that trespassed the transparent glass of the windows gave an orange tint to the room.

A chocobo plushy was hunched over on one side of the couch, yellow feathers ruffled and soft. Cor had bought it for Prompto on the impression that it looked just like him.

“Looks like your hair, doesn’t it?” he had said, holding the stuffed animal in front of Prompto’s face.

“No, it doesn’t!” The boy had protested loudly, all the while looking at the fake chocobo like it suffered from a contagious disease. The hairs on the back of his neck had stood in alarm, goose bumps covered the entirety of his arms; his body, unknowingly, had rejected the plushie, ignorant of the reason why.

It had been natural, like his reaction to white coats and injections. He didn’t say anything to Cor, though, simply accepted the toy in his sweaty hands and had left it on the couch, forgotten and untouched for the remainder of the visit and the weeks to come. He passed by it and felt a tremor run through his body; he preferred not to think much about why the presence disturbed him so much.

Prompto sat at the table, put down the book on its surface, his still skinny- but not as bad as before- legs swinging in the chair. Asides from the book he had just brought with him, a pile of books from different sizes and colors laid there too. Some of their titles read in big white cursive writing: _Lucian History-First Volume_ , _General Geography, Geography and Economics of Lucis;_ others had both florid titles and covers like _Cosmonogy, Centuries of War, The Great Thirteenth_ and _Daemon Encyclopedia._

There were more for sure, but those were the only ones Prompto had skimmed through or read a bit of. At the least, after reading one whose name he could not remember for its complex wording and excessive length, he had learned more about the current King of Lucis and Cor’s role in the system, what his function was in all this jumble of ranks and what not. Turned out that he was very important and a whole lot cooler than what the boy had thought initially. Prompto had spent days fawning over the idea that his legal guardian was a celebrity, a fundamental figure in the Crownsguard, after that discovery to the disgruntled man’s desmay.

 However, despite his new findings, his favorite one to date was the green book right in front of him, titled _Eos Mythology: a Recollection of Tales and Legends_. This one was not only more digestible to him but less vague and confusing than Cosmonogy, book that had taken him an entire week to understand the first few pages. _Eos Mythology,_ while taking at times a childish shine due to its narrative way of recording the stories, it felt- in a very strange way- more real and magical than most of the other books Cor had given him. Contained various myths about the creation of Eos, the nature of The Astrals, who The Astrals were, the essence of the world, the importance of the crystals. So many interesting concepts poured out in the paper, Prompto couldn’t help but be absorbed by the world of light and dark fantasy the book offered him; the fact that it also had tons of very detailed illustrations didn’t support his cause much. He loved everything about it.

But so far in the book, there was one chapter in particular that had him captured from the moment he saw the elusive title and the equally elusive content. This section of the book was remarkably different from the rest- devoid of the copious amount of drawings that characterized _Eos Mythology_ except from a couple of clothing designs and a strange golden symbol, devoid of an extensive explanation (origin: unknown, location: unknown…) the text in the chapter smelled of a mystery begging to be uncovered and, most important, the chapter was unique in the sense that it spoke of the existence of a pagan goddess.

A goddess who was not a part of The Great Six, completely alienated from them. 

One not recognized or mentioned anywhere else but in that chapter of _Eos Mythology_ , ignored entirely in the rest of the book as well as in every other book that told stories of The Astrals.

As if in a trance, Prompto opened the book on that special chapter; his eyes retraced the words, one by one, to capture them in memory.

**_“Legends across Eos tell the story of an old tribe known to have been gifted by the Gods with the ability of seeing into the future. This ability manifested itself into one chosen member of the tribe, The Seer, who would serve as a vessel for the visions. They called themselves the Farseers.”_ **

Tales of a forgotten culture.

The magic and mystery that surrounded the Farseers.

Prompto was sold the instant he saw the word ‘future’.

“ ** _The Farseers are believed to be the oldest tribe to have ever walked on Eos. Before Solheim was formed, the first culture in existence was theirs. Different from any actual or past civilization, The Farseers were not devotees of The Astrals; instead they worshipped a pagan Goddess._**

**_Etro of the Afterlife, she was called._ **

**_According to their beliefs, Etro was the Goddess of Chaos and Death. This entity in Farseer folklore was the one who provided life to this world and was responsible for taking it as well, to the place wherein she resides: Valhalla, the afterworld where all souls went to rest, hence her given name.”_ **

Prompto mouthed the foreign words ( _Etro. Valhalla)_ and continued reading.

**_“Etro had a kind disposition towards humans, she felt mortals were worthy of pity, especially her worshippers, and decided to bless them with an opportunity: the illusion of escaping death. Thus, she bestowed upon the purest member of the tribe with The Eyes Of Etro, the power to see beyond time itself. Thanks to this blessing The Farseers were able to thrive and evade for a while their awaited resting place in Vallhalla, with the exception of The Seer whose sole requirement was to face her demise valiantly. Under no circumstances was The Seer to change the future in order to prevent her own death._ **

**_The Goddess Etro also provided the Seer with a companion, another chosen one of the tribe to take care of The Seer’s wellbeing and protect them from any dangers. This person was denominated as The Guardian of the Seer and apart from The Seer, was the only being allowed to use The Oracle Drive*, a device where allegedly The Seer deposited their visions into._ **

**_The first known Seer was a fifteen year old girl called Nsu-Paddra Yeul*and her Guardian was an older man by the name of Caius (his last name and age are not specified). After them, came many others but they are unique for their names are the only ones that can be found. What it is known, however, is that both The Seer and Guardian had a long life expectancy, given that Nsu-Paddra Yeul got married to Caius when she reached her twenties and lived to see their grandchildren grow at her eighty years of age._ **

**_Another element that is important bringing attention to is that The Seer was never born again in the same family. After Yeul died, the next Seer was chosen from a different family. On the other hand, it’s uncertain if The Guardian shared the same fate. Some claim that Caius’s and Yeul’s lineage inherited The Guardian aspect, while others state that it’s logical to assume Etro assigned Guardian duty to another bloodline._ **

**_(Annotations at the end of the page)_ **

**_*The Farseers used for last names the name of their founding community, Paddra. To this time, it still remains unclear Paddra’s location or whether the site existed at all._ **

**_* It is unknown if this device is related in any way to The Oracle mythos, nevertheless the nature of this being true is unlikely since (if they existed indeed) The Farseers rejected our faith.”_ **

Prompto finished reading that part. He already knew what came next. He flipped the page and his blue eyed gaze found that strange golden symbol that unsettled him deeply, wholesome and big in the middle of it. His index finger unbeknownst to him traveled to the smooth page and drew imaginary lines on top of the predetermined ones.

The closer he looked at the picture, the more he thought it resembled a yellow tear.

Inside his ribcage, something shrunk painfully.

As he touched it, what was supposed to be the sign of The Eyes of Etro in The Seer’s own eyes, he recalled what was said on the previous face of the page. To be capable of avoiding catastrophic situations, yet not be capable of saving your own life. He wondered how The Seer was supposed to manage, if one day the vision that greeted them in the morning was nothing else but the last one they would ever have. If that vision showed them the day of their own death, the hows and the whys.

It scared him, somehow. Deep sadness overwhelmed him, the kind he didn’t know where it came from but was nonetheless so profoundly acquainted with it he didn’t bother to question the reason why it was there.

At the same time he debated this, the front door opened and a brunette man clothed in black came inside the house. The boy immediately looked up from the book on the table, finger frozen on the page.

“Missed me, kiddo?”

“Cor!”

He jumped from his seat and rushed to the man’s side. Cor was carrying two black bags filled to the brim with what seemed to be groceries and when Prompto trotted happily to where he was, he told him to be careful.

“These are what you’ll be living off for the next couple of weeks, so you don’t want them on the floor” He said jokingly to the animated child.

“Yes, Marshal, sir!” Prompto mimicked the hand gesture the lower ranked officers did when they saw Cor.

The man rolled his eyes at him before heading to the kitchen to drop off the bags. Prompto followed him and helped him store each thing he had bought in its rightful place. When they were done doing that, Cor buried a hand in his hair and messed with his now clean and silky locks.

“How was your day?” he asked kindly, just like he did whenever he came to visit the boy.

Prompto swatted his hand away from his head “Fine, I guess. I woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep but I ate some of that cereal you brought me last week, and I felt better.” He recounted the events and then remembered “Oh, and I’ve been reading.” He added quickly.

“That’s rare” Cor said sarcastically, walking to the table to check Prompto’s reading choice “That is all you have been doing lately, not to say that it’s bad but there is a perfect world outside, waiting to be explored”

Prompto could tell he was going to say more but Cor abruptly broke off his train of thought at the sight he found. The green book, _Eos Mythology: a Recollection of Tales and Legends_ , open on page 246. A strange look took over the man’s face as he locked on the chapter Prompto had been reading.

Prompto stood behind him and stretched a bit to peek over his shoulder, trying to see what was so weird about it that Cor had to stare so intensely but, confused, he was only met with The Eyes of Etro reproduced on paper.

Cor’s face remained blank for a second, then returned to that joyful smile he had given Prompto at the entrance, although it looked very strained. “Really? That chapter, again? What was it..?” Cor turned the page over and read the title out loud “ _Chapter 20: Etro of the Afterlife and her worshippers,The Farseers”_

He raised both eyebrows “Don you ever get bored of reading the same thing all the time?” Despite his tone and the way he spoke about it, his eyes returned as if attracted by a magnetic force to the contents on the page. “I reckon there are better documented legends in this book, and more reliable too”

Prompto felt unexplicably defensive and crossed his arms “Well, I like it enough. I think it’s awesome and cool. It’s different from the other stories and it’s… magical. It feels…” Suddenly, words failed him. His eyes widened and tried to get noise past his unresponsive lips but they wouldn’t budge. Unexplainable, was what the book and that chapter in particular made him feel like.

He wasn’t able to describe it, at least, not with mere words.

Cor’s gaze was unwavering, heavy on him, but he felt something shift in those eyes he had gotten to know well these past two months. Crossing his arms as well, he said “Prompto… do you, perhaps, remember anything?” Now the man was holding the book in his hands and if he didn’t know him like he did he would have thought the royal guard was pleading with him.

Pleading him to say what he wanted to hear.

 _Eos Mythology,_ wide open, showing the chapter of The Farseers, was being held by Cor Leonis and Prompto didn’t know what that one thing he wanted to hear was about. He didn’t know where _that_ began or where _it_ ended, just that somewhere in the middle _it_ had something to do with that chapter inside that book.

Prompto shook his head, feeling disappointment in his bones “No, I don’t remember. Why?”

The book snapped closed with a resounding ‘slap’. It was now closed in Cor’s right hand. He shook his head, copied Prompto’s previous action “No reason at all”

“I’m going to the bathroom”

Prompto was left blinking in bewilderment as the man disappeared in the bathroom’s direction. He wished to ask what was he going to do exactly with the green book in such an unlikely place to read but said nothing. Fiddled with his too long sleeves and said nothing.

By the time Cor came back from his bathroom break, the book was nowhere to be seen and he seemed to be in a better mood. Sat at the table and motioned for Prompto to sit in front of him, which the blond did warily, already foreseeing what was going to happen next and sighed in resignation. Cor chuckled (total opposite of the man who had asked him if he remembered anything), and grabbed a book from the pile. It was _General Geography._ Prompto’s worst subject.

“So, let’s begin with some studying, shall we?”  Why did he have to make a rhetorical question? To remind Prompto he had no choice in the matter? The boy uttered a depressed ‘yes’ and rested his cheek on his palm, in preparation of the long, looooooooong hours to come.

Every time he visited him, Cor made sure to supervise and tutor him in his studies, seeing that Prompto had never been to school before or maybe he had but had no recollections of it (no, he had never stepped inside a school, but the man didn’t need to know that). He explained him everything, it was impressive to see how knowledgeable the Crownsguard really was. From math, to biology, history, and geography… the list went on and on. Prompto appreciated he had such a smart person taking care of him but at times, it couldn’t lessen his boredom when it came to studying, especially if it was a topic the boy did not enjoy in the slightest.

Forgetting the awkward mood, they settled into their usual routine. Prompto retreated into the safe haven of his mind to avoid concentrating on the subject, and considered how incredibly natural this scene transpired.

Two months. Only two months had passed since that eventful day where he had transitioned from nobody to somebody. There had been a couple bumps along the way, of course, but now here he was. In his own house, the same house where he had been examined by Doctor Risa whose face as promised he didn’t have to see but still had some monthly check ups with another doctor (who was a lot nicer, even when he asked invasive questions Prompto simply could not answer).

Cor had pulled a few strings so Prompto could keep the house, and to prevent him from being handed over to the adoption system, that even in The Crown City was quite terrible, Cor appointed himself as Prompto’s guardian until his real parents showed up (for obvious reasons, at this point, the boy held no faith in this webbed lie but the image of pale blue eyes and long blond hair kept him from saying anything about it). Out of nowhere, Prompto had a roof over his head and a father like figure in his life that worried about him and tended to his needs.

Out of nowhere, he belonged.

Feeling warmer and grateful, he started listening to what Cor was saying. Nevermind that he got lost early in the explanation fast for not paying attention when he was supposed to and received a pinch on his left cheek for his trouble.

What was left of the day expired that way. Studying with Cor, getting sidetracked momentarily, then going back to the lesson. They took a break, watched TV, discussed the books Prompto had read these days (without mentioning that one particular book) and Cor took a chance on another failed attempt at teaching Prompto how to cook and therefore fend for himself. Subsequent to the almost fire they caused, Cor thought it more safe to teach the boy to simply heat in the microwave a cup of noodles.

Eventually, they got back to studying till’ it was time for Cor to go. Every single time, he left always at the same hour, almost manically punctual: at 5 o’clock p.m. Leaving homework for Prompto to do before he returned in two/three days, he reminded him where he had put the rest of the cup noodles and patted him on the hand. Prompto didn’t swat his hand away and just nodded, smiling a dimpled smile.

The door closing behind that broad back, Prompto thought, was not as frightening as it had been on his first days.

Objective set, he traced his steps back to his room, a quiet hum echoing on his ears, on and on. The neverending lullaby. The chair he had brought that morning was still there, in front of his closet, and once more he climbed on it, peered to the top shelf. A small hand, delicate fingers and thin covered-by-a-bracelet wrist reached for something he could not see too well from the angle he was in. When his hand returned to him, it held in his palm _Eos Mythology: a Recollection of Tales and Legends._

Outside, the yellow-orangesque sky was morphing into its darker nature.

The night was showing its teeth.

He was sitting on the couch, strangely enough. The chocobo plushie observed him with dead, unfeeling doll irises as he positioned himself as distanced as he could from the unnerving toy. On his lap rested the composition of pages that had him so fascinated. His nails tapped a rhythm on the back cover of the book, his undivided focus was dedicated solely to the Etro and the oldest tribe to ever walk Eos. Further and further, his heart beat for that thing he had not been well versed enough to express using his tongue and teeth and mouth and jaw and brain.

It went deeper than that. And he desired to search for what that deeper meant.

His chest moved timely with his breathing. Cold wind caressed the skin of his naked arms where he had rolled off his long sleeves and he looked up to be met with an open wide window. He did not remember leaving it open before. Book clasped in his hands, he stood up and closed the window and as he did, wet breeze hit him in the face. It was raining and he had not noticed, deeply concentrated as he was in his reading.

He closed the window, the light drops of rain were hitting the glass now and produced a ‘tap, tap, tap’ beat. Prompto turned around.

And the book fell from his hands.

His eyes widened like saucers.

His body, from head to toe, froze and felt the blood running through his veins become chill cold.

There was a suspicious figure standing next to the couch, next to where the creepy plushie continued to stare at him. He did not pay any mind to that, however, he couldn’t, because his heart was about to dig a hole through his chest.

“Prompto Argentum” spoke the unknown person. Accent heavy and definitely female.

Prompto’s knees shook and he tried to reign in his emotions to think clearer. He blinked a couple times and as he did the mysterious figure began to come into focus.

It was a woman. A dark curtain of hair cascaded gently from the top of her head; it was hard to make out where it ended seeing that she wore a dress in the same ebony shade as her hair. In fact, she appeared to be covered in darkness in exception of  the white piece of cloth she had entwined on her arms and the bronze and light purple designs on her dress. Her face, disturbingly uncolored, faced him with both eyes closed, lips a glossy red in a straight line.

Unconsciously, he took a step back.

She began moving closer with her high heeled boots, a gap on them to show her black painted toes.

“Prompto Argentum” she said again, even, too calm to be comforting “The journey thus begins, with the abandoned child who is not alone anymore. With the chosen by the Afterlife. With the child hiding behind countless bracelets. With the sacrifice of a server to secure his fate. With a city long forgotten by the light, where the child is born. With the man who wishes ownership of both the child and the destiny denied to him”

She stopped so close to him, where the book laid opened on Chapter 20.

Prompto was not sure he was breathing.

She leaned down, picked the book with long, nimble phalanges, all the while never taking her closed eyed invading stare from him. “It begins with the wounded prince and the abandoned boy. Thus the journey bound to shake both this world and the realm unseen begins, for their union is meant to rewrite the prophecies and visions foretold since former times”

She then pushed the book to his chest, very softly and Prompto felt himself burn at the touch.

“Defier of fate and denier of the might of The Gods, messenger from Chaos, Prompto Argentum. Your path which lays ahead an easy one is not. Many would perish confronted with the burden you have to bear. Yet you are meant to stand unmovable against adversity if your heart’s desire shall prevail over The Gods own will. To be pitied is your destiny. A tragedy unbreakable that cannot be stopped because your desire will not let it.”

“Support you I should not, that is not my calling. Sadly as long as the girl’s heart beats I am selfishly tied to her and will do as I can to spare her, even if sparing her means shattering the natural order of life. Perhaps, we are not unlike, you and I, in that tragic sense”

The boy could not understand one single word of what she was saying and almost fainted when she reached out with one hand to circle, using a sharp fingernail, the area around his eye socket. “When the time comes, ask for me and I will aid you. When the time comes, every one of the elements has to aid you”

Without a reason, without hesitation, he nodded, like a puppet on strings.

“Until then”

The unknown woman pronounced in a final tone and pressed a freezing kiss to the boy’s forehead, the book pressed against his chest still. In three seconds, his eyes fluttered close and his world faded into black.

In his bed, suffocating with the bedsheets, Prompto Argentum dreamed of a handsome young man, maybe six or seven years older than himself, athletic, blonde like he was and blue eyed like he was, throwing his arm around a black haired boy, whose head went up in surprise and the youngest blonde was mesmerized by the ardent blue of the other teenager’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, share your theories and thoughts with me in the comments :)


	7. this house no longer feels like home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forgotten memories of a tragic past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there is some creepiness near the end of the chapter, some bad touch™ character shows up but I swear nothing more than what is explicitly stated in this fic happened so do not fear.

_2 years prior._

* * *

 

His hands are incredibly cold. His back is pressed against the wall and his eyes try to adjust to the poor illumination. A lone red bulb emits an ominous glow from the ceiling. He’s not sure if he would feel safer or at least less unsettled with all the lights out.

Squinting, he tries to make out the other boys and girls in the room. Crawls to the bars on bruised elbows and knees and looks at the child sleeping in the cell across the hall. His name is Letty, he’s six years Prompto’s senior and he’s a brunette, tall and always kind to everyone. Next, Prompto checks on Daisy, a deaf girl who is not very sociable but likes to draw a lot of pretty pictures.

If they behaved well enough, sometimes the men and women in white coats would provide them with paper and crayons.

If they were good.

They are not the only children in that horrid place but Prompto is too shy and hasn’t dared to speak to the others. It was easy befriending Daisy because she was as alone as he was and Letty, due to his sociable nature, was the one who approached Prompto first. The others, they stay away from him, avoid him like the plague as if they can sense he’s different from them.

Prompto is aware of this, knows that he really is different from everyone else. Most of the boys and girls were brought in from the world outside this prison of stone and metal while he had never seen the sun with his own eyes or felt its warm light on his skin. He only knows artificial light and the opposite of warmth. Not that it really bothers him, though. These depressing thoughts never last for long; his frenzied six year old brain jumps from one thing to another in a frantic way, doesn’t settle on anything for too long. It’s not worth the pain of getting attached to what he cannot have, besides, nothing in this place is worth remembering. Most of the time he just wishes to forget.

He doesn’t understand the men in creepy armors, walking around the hallways silently. They never talk.

He doesn’t understand why the people in white cause him pain, why they give him things that make him feel dizzy, why they hurt him, why they talk to him like they would to an animal or worse, a thing.

He doesn’t understand why they are given a few hours of recess and then they’re forced back inside their cages.

 He doesn’t understand the talks of war, weapons, experiments and many other words he ignores what their meaning could be but nonetheless hears them at all times.

He doesn’t understand the man in the long white cape who sometimes shows his face and stares at him from above, through the bars that separate them, with veiled contempt (this only happens after Prompto is supplied with whatever strange substances that leave him feeling very confused and generally uncomfortably, so he occasionally doubts the existence of this man).

He doesn’t understand why the metal men bring crying kids of every age, every single day.

He doesn’t understand why he is the only child who was born there and why they all have a black barcode with different numbers permanently burned on their wrists. For as long as he is able to recall events, this is the only thing that remains unchanged no matter how much time passes. He has touched the mark before, tiny fingers tracing its shape just to realize it didn’t feel any different from any other part of his body. This, he understood. This, he understands.

And he understands, more than anything, that one day he will become one of those scary men made of metal and so will the rest. He does not know how or why but somehow feels it will happen sooner or later. If nothing else, he has always been a clever child.

The door to their section opens, disquieting the eerie atmosphere. Prompto crawls back to his corner. Two magitek troopers enter and post themselves on the entrance; their shadows look larger than life compared to the small children curled up in cages.

Prompto knows the drill: a yellow light located at the side of every cage will change to green in a second and they will all have to exit their safe zone and form an orderly line, facing the door. He waits for it to occur prior to pushing the barred gate open. He crawls out of it and tries to get up slowly, for now he knows from experience that if he stands immediately after being so long on the floor-giving no use to his legs-he will fall and meet the hard ground.

The veteran, more experienced children reproduce the usual routine. The newcomers don’t. They cry and holler for their parents to rescue them; some prefer to stay inside their respective cages, shaking and sobbing. Prompto and the rest organize in the way they’re supposed to, all the while holding their breaths, knowing what is about to come. The magitek troopers spring into action; he keeps his gaze firmly planted on his shoes as he hears the whimpers of the new kids-they’re being zapped to the point of unconsciousness. A few seconds that feel like a lifetime after, all the noises die. Later, he knows, the kids will be collected so the people in white can administer them with their first couple of doses. For now, they are locked again in their cells.

The ones in line are frozen in their spots. One magitek trooper heads to the front of the line where the first child in line stands and the second armored being stays behind to make sure none of them falls out of line. Prompto is almost at the end of the chain and feels a tremor go down his spine when the thing passes right by him.

They move synchronized, stepping out of their assigned section. The sudden light in the hallway blinds him at first but he quickly gets used to it. Maneuvering throughout a maze of equally uniform corridors they bump into many others group of children, all led by a magitek trooper, all dead quiet, all dressed in hospital clothes (white sleeveless shirt and white pants and white shoes without laces; easier to take off).

It’s rare to see a lone child accompanied by troopers. When that happens, Prompto knows whoever they are won’t be coming back.

They take a few turns here and there until they stop in front of a big door, on its surface written in paint a weird sequence of words and numbers Prompto can’t indentify yet. He calls it the giant room because of its exaggerated proportions and the amount of people that are able to fit in it at once, not taking into account the various spaces it possesses. The door opens with a ‘woosh’ and the magitek trooper walks in, the children right on tow behind it.

Over the many heads in front of him, he can glimpse the running track, the shooting range, the benches… The confusing white and silver glint everywhere his eyes can reach, interloping in a visual cacophony. This is the place where they are trained. This is where they are forced to do hours of physical exertion and push their bodies to their limits.

Prompto is terrible at anything related to pushing his own boundaries.

First, they run. The magitek trooper at the front directs them to the track in the middle of the room where other kids are currently running or jogging. It’s safe to say Prompto does not excel at it. He is too small and his short legs are definitely not made for running. He continuously falls, hurts his knobby knees, his pointy elbows, scratches his cheeks and palms. No one helps him. The intimidating metal men stand unmoving from the sidelines and do nothing, the other children from Prompto’s section pass by him, not looking once. He is grateful that this time no one stepped on him. He stands and keeps on keeping on.

Next, it’s time for obstacle running. Then sharp weapons handling. It goes on and on-Prompto trying and failing at activities, excelling at none of them with one exception however: shooting. When they get to the shooting range, the boy feels at ease. In the shooting range, Prompto is the unbeatable king. This is the only action he takes pride in.

He grabs a gun (has to hold it with both hands since they’re so tiny in comparison to the revolver) and hits each target in the bulls eye, not missing a single one. He has been doing it for so long he’s already used to the strong recoil the gun forces upon him as he fires. Succeeding this, he knows his wrists and arms and joints will stiffen in pain, his skin will redden and bruises will stain his vulnerable flesh as the day rolls by.

The sound of the shots echo in the wide room. While most of the kids struggle to even hold the gun properly, he has already taken down six out of ten targets. In these moments, they stare at him in wonder and fear, as if he is finally revealing his true self, as if they can see something black and rotten crawling under Prompto’s skin. This does bother him and he bites his tongue, blood rushing to his face.

When training is over, the magitek trooper takes them through another hazy path of hallways to their next destination. It’s the hall this time, a cafeteria of a sort where they sit by sections and are fed disgusting looking food-if it can be called food. They enter and he can see the tables are half filled already with other seemingly older children. Another thing he doesn’t understand is the weird schedule in this place. Every time he thinks he has it pinned down, it changes mysteriously. They never cross ways with another group more than twice, they never have the same time for doses, they never see the same people in white (this is debatable; Prompto can’t focus well on faces).

More metal men are lined in sequence against the walls, it’s creepy because Prompto swears he feels like they are purposefully set in that way to make them feel caged.

His group sits on a table close to the southern wall with him left for last at the edge of the table. His whole body feels cramped despite all of them occupying less space than baby kittens; they are that worryingly skinny. Prompto knows he is not the only one whose hips, ribs and shoulder blades protrude from his skin, making it span painfully. That’s probably the reason why they all get hurt so easy.

Plastic dishes are put on the surface of the table. No one moves until the trooper who served them has left and that is when everyone lets out their inner primitive urges. Prompto sees hands fly from everywhere around him, clawing at each other, tearing and pushing to obtain the highest amount of food, ignoring it’s gross appearance. Even Letty, sitting at the other end of the table, friend to everyone nice Letty, has changed into a rabid animal. He hisses at anyone trying to approach the plate he has taken for himself, lips pulled back showing sharp teeth. Prompto, instead, watches the entire circus performance unfold, silent and quiet in his corner, waiting for the rest to get their fill so he can have some leftovers for himself.

Because even then, he is not that desperate for scraps that taste like piss and chlorine mixed together. He can understand why they downgrade to this level, but at the same time, he has lived here his entire life. He doesn’t have any hopes anymore and therefore does not yearn, does not have any expectations, does not think that by eating more and getting stronger he will get anywhere. That is not how it works around here. But they don’t know that and he hides these thoughts behind a somber face. Why destroy their hopes and illusions when that is all they have?

He lets them be.

The boy looks absentminded at the cuts on the palm of his hands. As he does this, he picks on the sound of footsteps coming from outside the hall, getting closer and closer. His breath catches in his chest and stops moving altogether. The others notice this as well and the chaos in the mock cafeteria dies down, the children falling into scared silence, the mood noticeably decreasing to nervous anticipation.

The doors slide open and in comes an ensemble of important looking men dressed in white. Long white capes, robes of white touched with red and black and silver and gold. At the head of this ensemble is the old man who comes to see Prompto after he’s drugged. The boy immediately freezes and lowers his eyes to his lap, cold sweating and ragged breaths coming out of his mouth. So he is real. He is not a product of his wild imagination.

He can’t help it, he looks up again. Following the elderly man in a silver headpiece is a young girl with long hair and a smug look on her face; she walks tall despite being surrounded by older men and is dressed a tad scantily. Prompto for some reason feels his face heat up and turns to stare at the others.  Behind her, walks a woman with an extensive length of gold hair that looks almost white under the cold light in the room. Different from the others, she wears a casual orange dress, a small act of rebellion amongst the serious colors. Her pale blue eyes are simmering with something Prompto can’t put his finger on. He tries to tear his gaze away but fails to as those irises catch his.

Paralyzed, their eyes meet and the boy feels a strange spark of recognition although he can’t understand what caused it, keeps staring as the ensemble moves further inside the room. He should look away. He will probably get punished. But her eyes are ardently staring at him with emotions too deep and complicated and he just can’t. He can’t.

“So,” suddenly, a voice Prompto is unfortunately well acquainted with breaks the utter calm and silence reigning over the hall “, these are the samples you promised me, am I correct?”

That voice. Prompto’s gaze falls away from the lady and unbidden focuses on the origin of it. Oh no. He trembles even more than he did at seeing the elderly man. This is probably even worse. And just when Prompto thought he wouldn’t have to see his face today; he’d rather be locked up in a room alone with only magitek troopers for company than having to share the same space with this man. He is the one in the funny clothes, the weird accent and the jovial tone as he speaks that makes Prompto feel insanely scared.

His hands claw at his knees.

“Indeed” says the old man who chances a glance across the room with his also silver eyes “Although they still are pretty young”

“That does not matter in the slightest. How long does it usually take your team of engineers to produce an entire fleet of infantry?”

The old man frowns, worry lines mark his forehead “About fourteen years” he answers reluctantly.

The one Prompto dislikes heavily whistles at this “Fourteen years? No wonder you are running out of magitek troopers. This is obsolete technology” he gestures to the troopers posted in front of the walls “With my help, I guarantee you, every child in this room will be ready in two years time. And maybe we’ll have even more than just the ones here present” He smiles, nasty and dark, a wolf mocking its prey.

The man in white does not care or simply ignores him “You have proved yourself too times already to me and the Emperor, Chancellor. There’s no need for petty posturing” then he addresses the silver haired girl “I have utmost trust in your work. It is her I’m worried about. Can the Empire trust this little girl with our aerial army? Is she ready to handle magitek infantry?”

The creepy man laughs and the girl crosses her arms, raises both light eyebrows “She is right here and can speak for herself and if you still doubt my abilities, Minister,” she says his title in a sarcastic tone “I could give you a personal demonstration with the spear”

During this whole exchange, the blond woman has kept silent, thin lips pressed in a firm line. And her eyes have never strayed from Prompto.

The Minister scoffs at the girl’s comment “Once you have demonstrated what you are capable of in the battlefield is when you can finally dare to point your spear at me. Otherwise, I do not want to hear you, insolent little-“

The girl’s face turns meaner but does nothing asides from smiling eerily while the man in dark clothing raises his hands in a placating gesture, positioning himself between them “There is no need to doubt her either, Minister Besithia. Aranea Highwind is more than capable of leading any army you put her in charge of”

“She better be” is what the older man says deprecatingly “Enough of idle chat. I haven’t heard a word of that grand explanation you claimed you would give me”

“Patience, dear old friend” the other talks with dramatic air “I only wanted to see what I am going to be working with, that is all. Now that I have, the time has come to show my cards. If you’d follow me, please”

He turns his back and heads for the door.

Prompto feels a dizzying relief that almost makes him faint right there.

The girl and the older man move to follow behind the other, except for the blond woman who stands unmovable from her spot. Even as the others reach the door she stays where she is. Looking at Prompto with sad, sad, blue eyes.

It’s the man in white who realizes she’s missing and turns around, mouth open to probably order her to get moving but he stops when he follows her determined gaze. Silver eyes center on Prompto, unyielding in their fierceness. However, that is not what makes him pause. What has him uncomfortable and trembling and shifting is the other man’s stare that is also focused on him too, to see the cause as to why they haven’t left the room yet.

Three stares: one unbearably sad, another entirely uninterested and the last is delightedly amused.

Prompto can’t stomach any of them so he looks at the surface of the table as if it’s the most interesting thing in the room. When he looks up again, the elderly man, the Minister has grabbed the woman by the upper arm and is hauling her out of the room with force. She doesn’t struggle. The silver haired girl’s expression resembles that of someone who has swallowed a sour lemon whole as she exits the room next. And holding the door open is the funny clothed man, smirking like the cat who got the cream, gaze heavy on Prompto, filled with promise the boy does not understand and does not want to either.

He tips his hat at Prompto before leaving as well, the door sliding closed in front of his terrible, awful face.

The boy knows what it means. His nails dig moon marks on the white material of his pants and closes his eyes tight, ignoring the curious and probing eyes of the children at his table.

Too much hope for today being a good day.

* * *

 

He’s asleep inside his cage when he feels something is very wrong. Alarmed, his eyes open and he looks frantically around his cage, looking for the source of his alerted state. His arm itches where a needle had gone in after the eventful lunch in the not-cafeteria.

Hazel eyes are peering at him from outside the bars.

Prompto flinches, adheres his back to the wall which only serves to deepen the amusement in the man’s eyes.

“Hello there, skittish thing” a sharp grin, a hint of sharp canines.

Fingers tap on the bars of his cage “What a surprise to see you today. Although a very welcome one, despite the otherwise unpleasant company”

He’s all slimy words and intent pupils that force a primitive fear inside Prompto to the surface.

“H-hello” he ends up saying, because even when he knows there is something innately wrong in this situation, this man is the only one who talks to him on a regular basis.

“Hello” the other repeats “Why don’t you come out of there so we can have a proper conversation?”

It’s phrased like a question but it’s actually an order. He is no different from the people in white. Nevertheless, Prompto hurries out of his cage and deliberately ignores the big hand offered to him as he stands up on his shaky legs. He can stand on his own.

The hand retreats “Well, well. Stingy today aren’t we, Prompto dearest”

Despite the weird clench of his stomach whenever the man pronounces his name… he is the reason why Prompto knows in the first place he has a name. Before the creepy man started visiting him and taking him out regularly, Prompto had been just another number. One among many children with barcodes. Yet, for some unknown motivation, this man had singled him out. Had picked him out of all the other children and told him he had a name.

 _Prompto_. He had said, savoring the letters, caressing them with his tongue and the child had felt both happy (because he had a name) and creeped out.

He’s brought back to the present when long fingers take him by the chin and move his head upwards. “It’s rude to ignore someone when they are talking to you. It might have been amusing at first but now it’s starting to annoy me, do you understand Prompto?”

“Yes” he whispers, nods. His chin burns where the fingers press in.

“Good boy”

He waits for the invasive touch to go away but it doesn’t. The man’s eyes burn as much as his fingers do as he examines Prompto’s face; the tips of his other hand rest on the scratches on his cheek he had gotten earlier in training. When the fingers touch the bruises, they skin mends itself automatically. Prompto hisses.

“You look much better now.” The Chancellor murmurs pensively, his hand forcing him to move his neck this way and that “Such beautiful features are not meant to be ruined. At least, not by others dirty hands”

He doesn’t know what the man is talking about. Still, several shivers snake down his spine.

“Ah, how I wish you would grow faster” his voice sounds like a word Prompto read once in a dictionary: yearning. “I would have you for myself. That is the least I deserve after all the wrong I’ve been submitted to. Have you in all your pretty glory, hanging off my arm. Wouldn’t you like that, dear boy?”

Prompto still doesn’t get what he’s talking about so he nods wearily, because he doesn’t want to get hurt if he doesn’t answer the way he wants him to. Not that he has hurt him before but Prompto has not lasted six years without the knowledge that there is always a first time for everything.

The man tilts his head, his teeth shine red due to the red bulb submerging everything in the room with a hue of red. “Adorable. Yes, I deserve you” his hand moves to cup his cheek “Your father should be proud. You’re definitely his only worthwhile masterpiece.  Although the real praise goes to your mother, for shedding part of her beauty to give it to you. Sadly, that seems to be her only redeeming quality. That does not seem to be the case with you, right, pretty marvelous child?”

The boy is still hung up on the words mother and father. His blond eyebrows rise to his hairline “Mother… and… father?” he asks hopefully, his heart beating wildly not entirely out of fear.

The man in the hat stays quiet for a second, then shakes his head “Don’t mind me. That was nothing of consequence. Which reminds me, you heard us today, didn’t you? What a shame you were chosen to become one of this unsavory machinery.” He frowns, as if the idea bothers him a big deal “But maybe after I prove the Minister with the army he desires, he’ll let me have whatever I want. Maybe if I ask him, he’ll let me keep you”

His tone is huskier and Prompto has to gather all of his will to not pull back from his reach.  They stay like that for what seem to be hours but can’t be more than a couple of minutes; him staring at Prompto with dark intent and the boy trying to catch up with what is currently happening. At once, the fingers let go of his chin and Prompto feels like he can breathe again.

“I brought you a gift” the creepy smile softens and somehow, it’s even worse “A token of my devotion to you”

Prompto blinks expectantly, the palms of his small hands sweating bullets.

“Close your eyes” He does as told, his heart a ticking bomb inside his ribcage. When he is told he can open them again, he freezes at what he sees.

This is not the first time the man has gifted him something. He has given Prompto books, toys, crafted figures, poems, flowers. A bunch of things that are kept in the same place the people in white leave the other children’s stuff-they are available for use only at recesses. But those things, although not with him at all times, are the only possessions Prompto has. Everything he knows, of the ouside world and well, anything, it’s all thanks to this man.

Yet, this feels different somehow.

Clasped in the man’s hands, there is a cute chocobo plushie, perfectly made. Beautiful soft feathers look inviting to Prompto, he wants to touch it but suddenly feels afraid to do so. Prompto loves chocobos and the man knows it.

“Do you like it? I’m glad” The boy hasn’t moved, hasn’t said a thing. The man grabs his unresponsive hands and presses the plushie against them.

“Let this be a symbol of my promise to you. In two years Prompto, I will get you out of here. I will ask for you and you shall be given to me. Then, I will watch you flourish beside me, by my hand, under my careful gaze and when you are finally ready…”

He takes Prompto’s thin wrist, the one that is marked black and to Prompto’s surprise he kisses it “You will become officially mine” his breath is hot on the cold skin of his wrist.

“So keep this with you, to remind you everyday of our shared destiny”

Suddenly, the chocobo plushie is heavy in Prompto’s hand. Feels like the weight of the world on his shoulders and he lets it falls soundly to the floor, bouncing once.

~~Most of the time, Prompto wishes to forget.~~

The next day, he wakes up to dead doll eyes staring at him with a terrifying promise resting within them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING!!! If you liked it leave kudos and if you want to share your thoughts or theories on what will happen next, don't be afraid to leave a comment on the box down below (now I sound like a youtuber lmao)


	8. i don't love you, but i always will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a choice, but I still choose you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE, BAM, ANOTHER CHAPTER

**_O ut beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,  
there is a field. I'll meet you there._ **

**_-Rumi_ **

* * *

 

_He was in a field of flowers. Surrounded by light pink orchids on his right, red blood roses on his left, white peace lily plants behind him and purple hydrangeas in front of him, the eight year old stood confused and lost. How had he gotten there? He didn’t know. He only knew he was woken up by the strong smell the flowers were giving off; the sweet scents invaded his nostrils and made him feel nostalgic for some reason._

_The sky was clear, a beautiful shade of blue with no clouds in sight. The sun shone heavily on him, mainly because of his black clothing and he burned under it. Dark blue eyes looked around the area, yet found nothing more than flowers, a never-ending path of them. No trees or animals or cities, just flowers. An unexplainable fear plagued his thoughts at this apparent isolation._

_He saw nothing for a while but then a sudden move from the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned around and saw a silhouette through his squinting eyes, hazy and blurry because the sun had decided to serve the figure as a backdrop. Minutes after, his sight got used to the blazing sun and he was able to see the other inhabitant of this beautiful never land._

_It was a boy._

_Long arms and long legs, he stood a mile away from him. Knobby uncovered knees, weird attire (it looked almost primitive, almost tribal), half of his face was covered by a translucent veil. No matter how hard he focused on the other’s visage, he wasn’t able to make out any discernible features. Only a mop of wild yellow hair that gleamed golden underneath the sunlight. It reminded him of a chocobo and the comparison brought a real smile to his face._

_At that moment, his vocal chords, without ordering them to do so, without his permission, started to vibrate and his mouth opened as if he did not have control over his own body._

_“_______!” He screamed a name he couldn’t hear, suddenly erased sound. Happiness and relief (why relief?) overcame him at the sight of the other living human being._

_A voice, young and tender and so beautiful it made him want to break out in tears answered his call “Noctis…” the voice said and the owner of that voice both familiar and unfamiliar walked towards him. “I.. I didn’t think that I would get another chance”_

_He didn’t know what the other was talking about, they had never met before. Yet a part of him knew this person so intimately and was the one that responded, as if understanding perfectly the situation “What are you talking about, _______? We are here, together at last”_

_“Yeah… I guess we are” the other boy laughed a sweet sound “Thank the Gods for small mercies” he said this with a hint of sarcasm and Noctis frowned; he didn’t like the dark hue in this unknown boy._

_“The universe does work in mysterious ways.”_

_“_______?” Noctis didn’t feel happy anymore. The fear from before was crawling slowly to the back of his head._

_“I’m sorry” the blond said, stepping closer to Noctis who was frozen where he stood “I’m sorry for lying to you. But I had to. I knew that if I told you…  You would have stopped me, you wouldn’t have let me fulfill my calling”_

_Noctis felt something within his eight year old body break in a thousand million pieces._

_And he felt a hot rage entwined with grief cloud his senses. He did not know why “You’re sorry? You’re sorry?!!!” he yelled, hands curled into fists at his sides “Do you have any idea how I feel right now? Do you?”_

_“I’m sorry…”_

_“Of course I would have stopped you!!” Noctis felt himself turn hysterical “How could I not? How I could have been able to stand there and see you- You should have told me, dammit! I would have done something, anything!”_

_“There was nothing you could do” the blond head shook in denial._

_Noctis ignored him._

_“We would have found the way somehow. We always do. _______, if you had told anyone, any of our friends, Ignis, Gladio, ME. We would have helped you. Together we would have made it, found a different way, a solution that wouldn’t have to end like this!”_

_“No, Noctis. There was no other way.” The boy sounded infinitely sad and the young kids’ heart beat painfully “You should know by now that sacrifices must be made if-“_

_“Screw the sacrifices! I would have slain even the Gods for you!! Don’t you understand how much you mean to me?” Noctis cried out in ragged breaths. The sky above them was slowly starting to fill with gray clouds, the shade of blue transforming in pale silver._

_“Why did you surrender so easy? Why didn’t you fight?”  
_

_Finally, the blond boy that made Noctis ache in ways his eight year old self had never experienced lost his composure and began screaming out his lungs as well “What on Eos could possibly make you think that I did not fight this outcome? Did you think I wanted this to happen? That I wished for any of this? To have everything I’ve yearned for and then having to lose it all? Watch your face twist in anguish? You think that is what I wanted?” His blurry expression was sad; Noctis thought he saw a glimpse of blue somewhere. “If it had been my choice, if I had a choice in any of this you know I would have stayed with you. Forever. Until my legs and arms couldn’t move anymore and we were both old and gray. I would have killed you with crappy jokes and my terrible cooking”_

_Despite his inner turmoil, the black haired boy let out a mirthless laugh at the comment. Leave it to _______ to always make light out of every situation, no matter how screwed up it was._

_“Then why didn’t you? Why didn’t you stay?” he felt so terribly small, so childish as he asked in a teary voice stark different from the one he had used when he yelled.  
_

_A chilling wind struck them right then and their clothes and messy hair of black and yellow fluttered in the air._

_“Noctis,” the boy extended a skinny arm in the air, fingers wide open, separated from each other, as if Noctis was something he desired and was trying constantly to grasp but could never get close enough. He could relate perfectly._

_“I love you” he said. Determined, not an ounce of hesitation. True, simple and certain, like he was saying the grass is green or the night is dark. An undeniable fact._

_Noctis felt his lips pronounce an obvious truth of his own “I love you, too. Always have”_

_He took a step forward, his own arm reaching in the direction of the blond boy. Forever reaching, forever searching, forever pining for what had always been next to him._

_The blond boy smiled. Noctis saw dimples._

_“Hey, Noctis. Have I ever told you about how unworthy I felt standing next to you guys?” _______ said out of the blue._

_The sudden change of conversation did not bode well, he thought but decided to let it slide. He did not want to disrupt this special moment, especially if it was all they-_

_“I might recall something like that, yes”_

_“Well, despite the insecurities, despite our different standings, despite everyone’s disapproval and expectations… I…. You always felt like home to me” he admitted softly and Noctis felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes._

_“I would feel down at school sometimes, feel everyone’s stare on my back wondering ‘why him’. And there was a time where I actually wondered the same thing. People would look at me, even at the palace and whisper words I've heard for as long as I can remember.  A part of me believed their words. Stupid, right?” he paused to wipe his red nose with the back of his hand “But, you see, in the end I realized it didn’t matter. My self-deprecating thoughts or everyone else's thoughts did not matter. Because then, I would look up and I’d see your smiling face looking back at me, full of warmth and all the things I’ve missed my entire life and I would think: this is it. This is what I want to see for the rest of my days. No matter what, I want to always stand tall by his side. Even if he doesn’t want me, even if he never sees me I will stay with him._

_To the very end”_

_Noctis laughed then, broken and joyful “Man, that’s stupid. How could I ever not want you? I was always looking back at you, you know. My mom, she used to say: ‘Noctis when you find the one, never look down, never let your eyes stray from her or you will lose her.’  And I never did. Not once did I ever let you out of my sight. You were all I could see, anyway. But I guess I must have done something wrong.”_

_“I never noticed” _______ said, ignoring the last part of Noctis’s statement “I never imagined the day you would return my feelings. In my mind, I was the pauper pining after a prince. You were way out of my league. Not even in my wildest dreams, I ever thought of you saying ‘yes’ to me and-“_

_He stopped; his eyes went to his raised hand and stared at his ring finger. Noctis did the same. It felt empy, as if something was missing from it.  
_

_“Oh” they both said and smiled stupidly at each other for saying it at the same time._

_“Guess the realm unseen is not that perfect”_

_Noctis hummed in agreement._

_The other boy continued musing on his thoughts “Y’know, can you actually imagine us growing old together? I can. I bet I would have to fight with you every morning to get you awake. Then you would spend the entire morning glaring daggers at me from across the room”_

_Noctis snorted and decided to follow the other boy’s little game of what-if. If only for a while “And what about you? You would waste all of our money on junk food and I would have to cook every day out of fear of being food poisoned.”_

_“You might complain all the time but you still love me anyway”_

_“In winter, we would stay all day huddled on the couch playing King’s Knights until morning”_

_“When summer came, I would accompany you to the nearest body of water so you can fish while I take photos of the dumb faces you make and then post them online”_

_“I’d push you in the water for daring to shame your King”_

_“I’d pull my King’s arse to the lake with me. Because if we fall, we fall together”_

_“We would visit Gladio and Ignis, and have silly sleepovers we would be too old for yet we don’t care enough to give a fuck”_

_“We’d joke and ask them when they are going to get married”_

_“I’d hang mistletoes all over their place”_

_“And I’d laugh and sing GLADIO AND IGNIS SITTING ON A TREE…”_

_“K-I-S-S-I-N-G”_

_“Luna would probably shake her head at us for acting immature”_

_“Then she would tell us to stop behaving like children and more like we’re responsible adults”_

_“We would laugh in her face and call her a worry wart. And tell her she needs to loosen up”_

_“’Nyx can help you with that’ I’d say and probably get a slap on the cheek for it”_

_“You certainly would….”_

_They stared at each other and burst into spontaneous fits of giggles. Two eight years old laughing in an abandoned field of mourning flowers._

_Every moment they shared, every fleeting touch, every instant of happiness whether alone or with their group of friends, played out in the back of their minds like a movie._

_Before they knew it, the laughing turned into sobbing. The smiles into tears and they were both heartbroken and destroyed and why did fate have to be such a bitch?_

_The life they could have had laid out before them like a faraway and distant dream they will never be a part of. Will only be able to speculate in vain._

_The blond was the first to quiet down, looked somberly at Noctis with still wet trails on his cheeks. A proof of his grief “Noctis, let’s say you somehow find the way to change things. To change all this and have this future never happen. But in exchange, you’ll have to sacrifice your own life so you can save mine. Would you do it, would you accept?”_

_Like _______ spoke the words ‘I love you’ a while ago, Noctis said without guilt or remorse, dead serious “You know I would. For you, I'd do anything”_

_“Then you know I had no choice. Not If I wanted to protect you. To save you”_

_“It was a senseless sacrifice, _______! Your life is worth a hundred of mine”_

_“To me, your life is more important than anything else in this world.”_

_As he said this, the sky turned fully gray, the clouds began crying above them as if mimicking their emotional state. The blond boy looked up and closed his eyes, drops of water falling on his face “I only wish I had more time.” He confessed “It was not nearly enough, the time we spent together. I wanted more. Want all of it. But this is the end. This is where the river runs dry, Noctis, and we will have to find our separate ways”_

_“No!” Noctis felt the floor fade beneath his feet, the world around him turning darker “We almost made it! We were almost together! It was finally over, you can’t leave me!”_

_The blond cried harder “I’m sorry”_

_Noctis ran. He pushed his legs to their limits as he ran for his life knowing that this moment, this time spent in a land that never was, this last encounter, it was about to reach its end._

_“All I ever wanted was to be with you!” He yelled at the figure that seemed both unbearably far and so unfairly close. He willed his legs to move faster and suddenly, he was not an eight year old anymore. He was tall, his limbs longer and stronger with age and his voice was rougher. The voice of a young man in his twenties screaming in pain._

_In his sights there was not a child but a young man too, wearing the trademark colors of the Crownsguard. Freckles on his shoulders and cheeks and on the bridge of his nose and he was the only thing in Noctis's eyes. He was his end and his beginning. He was the sun in the morning, shining bright in the sky, chasing the shadows away and he was slipping from him.  
_

_“I know. Me too. Bus as cheesy as this might sound, I’m always with you. I will always be with you, Noctis. Not even death can change that”  
_

_“Shut up! Just shup up!”_

_When he finally reached his slippery dream and his hand moved to grab the blond’s own hand, when their fingers brushed to grasp at each other… The appendage Noctis wanted to hold started to dissolve in tiny specks of brilliant light. He stared flabbergasted as his hand grabbed empty air. Soon, his forearms, his feet, his other hand-they became pure vapor.  
_

_The blond smiled, cheeks freckled and dimpled “It’s time” he said as he began to disappear. Right in front of him, yellow sparks flew all around him as this man he loved more than life itself faded. “I hope, maybe, in another life, we’ll meet again. Start from the beginning and have what we deserve”_

_“I don’t want a new life” cried out Noctis, still trying to grasp the ethereal boy who was now more wind and air than bone and flesh “I want you”_

_“I love you. I always will." The blond with his beautifully saddened face said, heartfelt and pure "Goodbye, my Noct"_

_And just like that, he was gone. Where before had been a breathing, living, moving body, there was nothing. Nothing was left of him._

_The boy with the dorky smiles and hilariously ridiculous comments who saw Noctis not as a prince but as a man. Gone away, like smoke, like a sweet dream and there was nothing left to salvage._

_Nothing._

_The sun had set on Noctis's forever._

_With a scream only Noctis could hear, at once, he said the name he could not remember._

_The one that would always haunt him._

**_Prompto._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the angst but I'm not really.


	9. loneliness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done with finals and ready for updates ;)

He was panting, taking big gulps of air, the sheets tangled around him and his back supported by the headboard of the bed. He kicked the covers away with flighty feet, frantically looking around the room to make sure that he was safe. That he was real. That he still wasn’t trapped in that world of nightmares. 

 

The boy calmed down a little when his eyes found the familiar furniture and decorations of his room. His breathing slowed down, the sweat on his palms cooled a bit and although his heart still hammered inside him, he felt safe. Noctis was about to sigh in relief but then, he noticed.

 

 His right arm, extended in the air, raised and reaching for something. There was nothing however to be reached. In front of him, of his arm, there was just vacant air.

 

It fell back to the bed as soon as he willed it to. He followed the movement, weary, and felt a drop of water touch his naked knees.  He… was crying, tears made their slow descent down his cheeks. He didn’t know when he had started, maybe it was a leftover from his dream, whatever it was about. He sniffed and proceeded to wipe his eyes with his small hands, moved by emotions he couldn’t describe as he wanted to.

 

It was not that he had never had a nightmare before. Quite the contrary, these last couple of months had been nothing but a never ceasing chain of bad dreams that accumulated over time and showed up behind his eyelids like clockwork when he closed his eyes at night. The difference fell on the fact that usually those nightmares were all related to the incident from months ago: the Marilith hovering over him, cruel and smug, the color red spreading everywhere as if there was no other color in the world and the dead bodies of the guards that had once been alive and healthy-Noctis had spoken with them-lying formless, lifeless on the unmerciful ground. The usual nightmares, more memories than nightmares, he remembered. Sometimes he even dreamt of men in silver armors killing everyone he knew, his dad running desperately away and Luna’s hand letting go, slowly, in slow motion; her white figure was left behind looking so mature for her age-always mature-standing in opposition to her chaotic background. This nightmare tough, was different from the ones he was used to-to begin with, he couldn’t even remember what he had dreamt about, which was odd for his standards.

 

He felt feverish, reckless, energy thrumming inside his body. 

 

The door opened with a slam that startled him out of his mind. He let out a little gasp and looked up at the figure blocking the entrance to the room. A boy stood frowning at Noctis with a motherly expression on his young face, his arms crossed. Noctis relaxed at the common formal clothing, bespectacled gaze, and gelled hair he was so used to seeing.

 

The brown haired kid stepped into the room. A maid trailed behind him; she immediately went to open the curtains to let the morning sunshine bathe the shadows clinging at the corners of the bedroom while the other boy walked to Noctis’s side.

 

“Good morning, Your Highness” he said, accent too thick and grave for a nine year old boy.

 

“Good morning, Ignis” Noctis returned the greeting with a smile, although he felt worry on the back of his mind still.

 

Ignis seemed to sense automatically the strange mood Noctis was in. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose-the frames were too big on him-and asked in a worried tone “What did you dream about this time?”

 

The prince threw a cautious glance in the maid’s direction. Ignis was one of his best friends so he didn’t mind telling him but he knew the maids could not be trusted, they wouldn’t keep quiet to his dad if something was going on with Noctis. Since their return from Tenebrae, his dad had been more careful and attentive to him, which wasn’t bad at all but that also meant he spent a lot of time inquiring about his son’s wellbeing and whereabouts, what he was up to, what he did on his free time…

 

Noctis did not want to worry his dad, not now that he had important matters to deal with other than his son. But he didn’t want to lie either.

 

Just in case, he closed his eyes and tried to remember. White, purple, pink, and red. The sickly scent of funeral flowers. He opened them again.

 

“Flowers… That’s all there is” he mused absently, forgetting about Ignis’s presence for a second. He tried harder to remember other things from his dream but he couldn’t. All there was in his mind, all he felt on his bare knees and naked feet were flowers. 

 

“Roses, lilies, peace plants and hydrangeas” 

 

The words recited from memory, a deep part of his brain that knew everything yet ignored everything. His back and shoulder blades burned.

 

“Excuse me, Your Highness?”

 

The question brought him back, he blinked and shook his head in confusion. Whatever he had been talking about vanished from his train of thoughts and he stared at Ignis again, feeling at a loss. Someone’s small voice called out his name, somewhere in his brain, somewhere in his room, somewhere in the palace, somewhere in the Citadel. 

 

Somewhere in Insomnia.

 

“Nothing. I dreamt of flowers, that is all” he clarified only to watch Ignis’s stern features turn unconvinced.

 

The other was hard pressed to say something about it though, he knew Noctis hated talking about his nightmares. At most, he told him plainly to get ready for the day, but before he and the maid left Noctis alone to prepare, he said “You can tell me anything, do you know that Noct?”

 

If he weren’t as good friends with Ignis as he was, he wouldn’t have detected the change of intonation from plain to worried.

 

The first time his dad had introduced Ignis to him as his sort of caretaker, Noctis hadn’t really liked him. He was too uptight, he’d though then, serious and calm when another child would have been loud and obnoxious. He dismissed Ignis as someone boring and uninteresting, but agreed with his father’s command. They would probably get tired of each other soon enough, they were too different to become friends, like water and oil. Little did he know, back on those days, he’d grow to get along with Ignis, he’d learn to appreciate the other child in the palace for what he was, understand his dry humor and discover that he was just as capable of having fun as Noctis was.

 

Befriending him had been easy, forced to spend time together they both realized that despite their differences, they could mingle just fine. Even when Ignis acted like a grown up stuck in a kid’s body, Noctis liked him a lot. Especially now that he had lost an important friend thanks to that Empire they were at war with.

 

Noctis showed a little smile “Of course I do, Iggy”

 

The door closed and when it did, Noctis placed his feet on the ground, careful not to do any sudden moves. His legs felt like jelly, he didn’t trust them much to support his weight without falling over; a decayed tower on the verge of imminent destruction. Once he was sure his knees were not going to fail him, he headed for the bathroom. He washed his face, wiped the crusts pasted to his eyelashes and the corners of his eyes, brushed his teeth, took a bath. 

 

As he came out of the shower, he couldn’t help himself and dragged a hand over the fog that covered the mirror, cleaning the surface, leaving his mark on it. In that moment, his hand to the glass and his dark blue eyes staring intently at his reflection, he blinked and saw a flash of yellow, a forgotten memory from his dream.

 

What?

 

He flinched, stepped back. The wound on his back hurt now, the way it did those first few days. However, when he dared to look again in the mirror there was nothing. No flash of anything to be seen. Noctis gulped and felt the atmosphere shift to lower degrees, opposite the blazing sun outside the safety of the palace. Weary, he made the trek back to his room shivering.

 

The prince dressed in a rush, not paying attention to the shirt and pants and underwear he was putting on, they were all black anyway.  He exited to the hallway, desperate to put distance between himself and the room, his nightmares hot on his heels. 

 

Ignis was waiting for him, the maid nowhere in sight. She probably had better things to do than wait for Noctis to finish grooming for the day.  He went up to him and muttered a sheepish ‘I’m done’. Ignis looked at him, then inside the room, almost as if he could see the ghosts residing there. Sometimes, Noctis thought, Ignis acted too mature for his own good, he saw the things no one else could see, had the common sense no average child had at his age. In a way, it reminded Noctis of Luna, with her elaborate manner of speech and cryptic words. 

 

Together, they walked down the hallway at a slow pace due to Noctis’s still fresh injury; it was only weeks ago when he and his dad made it back from that disastrous encounter with the Empire in Tenebrae and Noctis was at the time confined to that annoying wheelchair but now, he was allowed to move without it at his leisure. Of course, he had to exert caution and not do anything that would bother the wound unless he wanted to be in the wheelchair again. Ignis grabbed him by the shoulder just in case.

 

“Your father will not be having breakfast with us today, but he told me he will be relieved of his duties in time for supper” Ignis informed him at the same time they entered the dining room, their food was already set on the table in pure clean plates and polished silverware.

 

Noctis felt a prickle of disappointment “Oh. Okay” he sounded sadder than what he wanted to let on-he needed to practice his indifferent tone-but he understood why his father couldn’t see him as much as he used to. He knew why he locked himself for hours inside the throne room with those other men and women Noctis knew were important. One word: war. It was all because of war, he understood that and that was why he learned to let go of his father who was also a king and the only one who could prevent the events that took place in Luna’s home from happening again.

 

He sat down at the head of the table because he could and because it was fun to pretend to be a hero for a while.

 

“Where’s Gladio by the way?” he asked a little testing. He kept his gaze on the delicious smelling omelet in front of him.

 

Things with Gladio had been very awkward since their first meeting. The older boy disliked Noctis for some random reason and he always went out of his way to make training as hard as possible for the prince. However, his attitude changed altogether after he saved Iris not too long ago and from that point onwards they’d been trying to understand how to maneuver around each other with Ignis serving as a common ground.

 

He heard an unexpected ‘clink’ coming from the other boy’s seat. Ignis was sliding the knife to cut his omelet when Noctis spoke, and the knife made a screeching sound when it connected with the plate instead. His brows furrowed and his mouth a thin line, he said “Where he is always at. That young man-“ Young man? Noctis had to bite his tongue to keep from bursting into laughter. Gods, the mix of his tiny stature yet solemn and severe voice made Noctis want to cackle. A nine year old talking like a grown man, calling another boy who was older than him by a year ‘young man’-who would have tought.  “-doesn’t see anything beyond training and swords. He is a functioning human being, he needs to eat, he needs rest. Besides-“

 

Yes, Ignis and Luna would get along like a house on fire.

 

Noctis smiled behind his hand and shook his head. Going back to eating his breakfast, he let Ignis ramble on and on about Gladio. As much as the other complained he knew that the two boys had… a special kind of bond. Noctis didn’t have the proper words to define it, whatever it was, but felt that in a way it was different from what they had with him or anyone else. Even at that moment- Ignis upset like he never was at anything, stoic composure all gone down the drain -Noctis could see a hint of that something new and young and different there, in the air around him. In the way they talked, how they naturally gravitated towards each other, their staring eyes, their smiles, everything about them screamed of a shared secret Noctis desired to be privy of.

 

He wanted to grasp ‘it’ for himself but he didn’t know how. That spark, that thing, eluded him like he was a sickness because no matter how much he enjoyed hanging with Ignis, ‘it’ just wasn’t there. He didn’t feel anything out of place. The same happened with Gladio, he just looked at him and saw nothing out of the ordinary. And then, there was Luna whom he missed terribly and wanted to be by her side so badly and yet… that something didn’t show itself either during their time together. There was still something missing, even as she spoke of heavy words like ‘destiny’, ‘gods’, ‘prophecies’, ‘kings’ and ‘oracles’ and ‘protect each other’, he did not perceive that particular change of atmosphere that whispered of more. Always more.

 

He thought that, maybe, he didn’t have that something with any of his friends due to their differences. Maybe Gladio and Ignis had that because they were closer in age? No, that made no sense. It was not like they were older than him by ten years, and neither was Luna, she was only four years his senior. There was not an unbearable age gap between them. So what was it? 

 

He, perhaps, had an idea. 

 

When he looked at them, sometimes, he witnessed the tiredness and wisdom he glimpsed in the faces of adults. Ignis and Luna-who faced her fate with bravery, who let go of his father’s hand to stay with her people instead of running away like any other little girl would have done- both spoke in the manner experienced lords and ladies wished to accomplish, and Gladio shouldered the strength and burden of any of the other glaives and Crownsguard at just ten. Next to them, what had Noctis done? What was he? What was his role in all this? He possessed no words to fill the awkward silences that were born when talking with Ignis about serious matters (he didn’t understand), he remained ignorant of what was he supposed to do when Luna gazed at him, blue old eyes expectant after telling him again about their future (he felt so small, so clueless), he didn’t know what to do either when she said she wanted to be left alone and stared with those same old eyes at the horizon in front of her, not really seeing anything, her shoulders sagged sadly and her hands clasped shaking softly on her lap while Gentiana stood by her side, watching her through closed lids (Noctis didn’t know how to comfort the girl who bore the pain of a thousand, The Oracle herself that could commune with the Gods and had responsibilities he could never begin to comprehend). Much less, he had zero ideas on what to say to Gladio when the older boy spoke greatly about King Regis and Noctis being expected to replace him when the time was right, when he said that everybody was waiting for the day he claimed the throne as his and became a King even greater than his father (Noctis looked at him from the ground and trembled, thinking of metal men, blood, death, tears, fighting, and having to let go of things if he wanted to protect his homeland).

 

The unexplored land of adulthood laid bare in front of him, in every movement and sentence his friends made and Noctis was terrified of what walked in it, of the dark things that lived there. A thin line divided them, he was on one side and they stood firm on the other. Children with adult minds and Noctis, alone and separate from them.

 

Sometimes, he had to look away. He couldn’t bear to see the so feared grown up world he didn’t wish to enter quite yet, despite the others being immersed completely in the situation. He didn’t want to mature so soon, he wanted to be able to enjoy being a kid, he wanted to be a normal boy, even if his smiles were scarce now, even if he didn’t laugh as much as he used to before, even if he couldn’t close his eyes without seeing daemons and blood tainting the world with its vibrant tone, even if he couldn’t ignore anymore what war and Niflheim meant, even if he was aware of the duties and weight his dad had to carry, even if he cried with no reason, even if his back burned and hurt. Even if he was broken, he wanted to be a normal child.

 

He felt so lonely.

 

With Ignis’s annoyed voice as background, he finished his omelet.

* * *

 

They found Gladio in the training room. As usual.  He immediately noticed Noctis and Ignis coming into the room; his eyes flew to the youngest boy then to the older one. He smiled sheepishly and fidgeted in the spot, a weird gesture coming from a ten year old that doubled them in both height and muscle mass.

 

Ignis, entirely nonplussed, just glared with his arms crossed.

 

“You were not at breakfast today” he said coldly.

 

“I lost track of time, I guess…”

 

“Lost track of time? Do you know how unhealthy it is to not eat in the morning?”

 

“Look, I was busy”

 

“Doing the same thing you do every other day of the week”

 

“Iggy, I’m sorry”

 

“You can apologize to me but it won’t change things. You need to take better care of yourself”

 

Noctis watched the back and forth from the sidelines, his snort went unnoticed given how invested they were in the discussion. It was amusing seeing the more slender Ignis facing off against the massive shape of Gladio, not even a bit intimidated by the other boy.

 

Gladio rolled his eyes “That is not why you’re so hyst-histra-histori-damn what was it?!”

 

Ignis’s frown deepened “One, watch your language. Two, it’s probably hysterical”

 

“That. Whatever. You’re not mad at me for that”

 

As he said that he pulled Ignis into a one armed, full of sweat, hug. Ignis’s face ended up plastered against Gladio’s disgusting armpit and Noctis couldn’t reign in the laughter anymore. The bespectacled boy’s face was a patched up shirt, made of different emotions; he turned slightly red, but opposing that was the full blown downturn of his lips, a twitch on his right eyebrow and his crinkled nose. Although he was clearly revolted by the smell and his expensive clothes were now covered in sweat, the smaller boy stayed put where he was, glued to Gladio’s side.

 

“You promised me you’d come for me” Ignis muttered, glum and serious.

 

Ah, so that was what his annoyed tirade in the dining hall had been all about. Noctis grinned and saw that special something surround them, hide them in their own small little world where nothing else mattered.

 

“Today is my free day, we were suppsed to play together. But no, instead you'd rather spend time with a sword than with me"

 

"That's not true, Iggy. I did lose track of time! Don't be mad at me"

 

Was that... Ignis pouting? Astrals, Noctis guffawed then like he had not done in a while, he doubled over his stomach and  felt the blood rush to his cheeks. This explosion of sound drew the other kids attention to him and they blinked as if for an instant they had forgotten Noctis was even in the room. Gladio-Ignis was still under his arm- greeted "Ah, good morning Your Highness. You're so tiny I didn't see you standing there"

 

The prince  wiping tears from the corner of his eyes answered "Yeah, right. I forgive you though, you were obviously busy with other things" he smiled mischievously and looked at Ignis who shook his head and at once, pulled away from the taller boy's grasp. He looked at Gladio again with his typical expression yet the light dusting on his cheekbones remained.

 

"So, um," Noctis started since he had the slight feeling that if he didn't intervene and let them keep at it, they'd probably get nothing done "Are you two finished? Can we go play?"

 

Gladio raised an eyebrow "And who invited you?"

 

"I invited myself" Noctis challenged back.

 

Before Gladio had the chance to retort, Ignis asked "Ok, what do you suggest?"

 

"Hide and seek" he said, not really thinking about what he was saying and froze when he did . The other boys paralyzed at the mention of the game. Noctis swallowed and felt his palms shake at his sides. Crap, he had done it. He had been the one to say it first. Ignis and Gladio smiled smugly at the no longer laughing prince.

 

To other people, it might not have seemed like a big deal. However, playing hide and seek inside The Citadel was actually a pretty big deal-the building was practically built like a maze! Therefore, they had come up with this little rule that stated that whoever made mention of aforesaid game first would be the one searching, doing the ardous task of looking into every room and every area in the palace.

 

This was serious. And extreme.

 

Gladio clapped "Nice! So it's decided. Thanks for that one, Noct"

 

Noctis groaned and shifted from one foot to the other. Just one second of distraction had been enough to get him in this mess. He tugged a the hem of his shirt and warned Gladio he would pursue him to the edge of the world to catch him. The other boy merely shook his fist at him and dared him to trywhile Ignis chuckled from behind him. They threatened each other stupidly (it wasn't even serious, they were both trying hard not to crack up) until Ignis got fed up and started walking towards the door, Gladio following close like an oversized puppy protecting its master.

 

Noctis sighed in resignation after they left and started counting painfully to twenty, feeling like he had to carry a boulder up a hill. 

 

As expected, it took him hours to find the other boys. The afternoon light was hot on his back as he moved from room to room in search of his friends, plus he took longer than usual due to his injury. He only made it because a kind maid slipped it accidentally that she had seen them going in the direction of his room. At the moment he was heading there, tired, a fine layer of sweat everywhere on him. When he reached his door, he saw that they had not even  bothered with closing the door all the way; a gap allowed him to see inside the room without alerting them of his presence.

 

Curious, he rubbed his sweaty palms on his trousers and dared to take a peek.

 

They were talking in hushed voices. Sitting at the feet of Noctis's bed, Gladio's naked knee and Ignis's clothed one brushed as they spoke, their bodies turned slightly towards each other. That odd aura was in the air again, the difference was that this time Noctis felt unwelcome instead of tolerated, as he saw them smile little fond things, poke at their ribs and joke like he hd never seen them joke before. This was not like that moment he had seen earlier. This was private, unique, it belonged to them alone. 

 

Something about their positions made them look happier, healthier, more at ease. They were the rarest combination in existence, the wild Gladio and the strict Ignis. Albeit, in Noctis's room, their legs extended out and no one else in sight, they made perfect sense somehow. Gladio's rough nature appeared to fit in with Ignis's straight lines.

 

The prince's heart throbbed too slow inside his ribcage and suddenly, he was overwhelmed by everything in his life. The same feverish sensation that hit him after his forgotten nightmre returned like a fire rekindled by the wind.

 

He had to leave.

 

Struggling with a dozen rocks on his chest weighing him down, he ran away from the room that smelled out of nowhere so strongly of funeral flowers and the one thing he couldn't seem to grab. He moved to the closest window and pressed his forehead against the glass, his hands followed suit and he took in the thriving city of Insomnia underneath his gaze, his ears welcomed the melody of human life evolving down there where he could not reach. 

 

And he wondered, breath clouding the transparent material beneath his lips, why he had the sudden need to look at the city, at the buildings, trying to recognize a familiar shape that faded away like fog if he tried to focus on it. For some reason, his heart yearned for something unseen.

 

He wondered, was there something (someone) waiting for him? Could it be that somewhere in Insomnia was that thing he had desired from the start?

 

His fingers curled against the glass.

* * *

That night, at dinner, sitting across his father in the dining hall, just the two of them, he deciddd to voice the question that had plagued him since he caught Gladio and Ignis at a game of hide and seek that became so much more.

 

"Father, can I go to school?"

 

His father, the King, stopped in the middle of taking a spoonful of soup.

 

"Why that question now out of all times? Are you not satisfied with your tutors?"

 

"No, I like them. But I.... I sometimes feel... Ignis and Gladio are busy doing other stuff most of the time and... I can't stay locked up here forever, right?"

 

"I have to go out someday. Know the place where I live. Learn to be fine outside the palace"

 

He looked up, face stern and decided. Too old for an eight year old, too young to be an adult quite yet.

 

The King smiled exhaustedly.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked it, drop a comment.


	10. the day we met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not kill me please.

“So this is **it**. Or should I say, tomorrow is **it**.”

“Yes. Tomorrow, they will meet. Tomorrow, I believe, all the domino pieces will begin their descent. Even now I wonder how we managed to prevent this from happening sooner.”

“…”

“Your confusion is palpable.”

“May I ask a personal question?”

“You may.”

“Why the sudden interest in their meeting? If I remember correctly, the last time I suggested something similar you seemed completely appalled at the idea. What has changed?”

“You are making it seem as if I had no right in worrying, when you know as well as I do that my fears weren’t exactly unfounded. The circumstances of the boy are not precisely assuring or slightly logical-“

“I thought we had already discussed this. He is just a boy. Who could actually blame him for hiding what he is, where he comes from? Had I been in his place I would have done the exact same thing. And yes, even I was suspicious about him at first but once I saw it, I understood.”

“And I am not dismissing that in the slightest. I am simply reminding you that we could not afford to take any chances and sadly, he was a great question mark with no apparent answer. Up to this date we continue stumbling in the dark with no real explanation of what happened to him. The risk was too great. Also…, the Crystal could never hope to be as loud in those days as it has become now.”

“The Crystal has started communicating with you again?”

“Yes. With each passing day the connection gets stronger. Restless. Right now it’s proving to be quite difficult to ignore.”

“…What has it told you?”

“What I couldn’t see due to my fear and shortsightedness. I should have imagined so the moment you told me his last name. The boy is important. His being here is no coincidental.”

“You can’t possibly be implying what I think you are.”

“But I am, old friend. It’s so obvious if you would dare to think about it. He has been chosen. He is next in line.”

“That-That is not possible! How could he -?”

“Control your temper! I understand your disbelief; however you should consider that things of this nature are hardly ever predictable. Although it defies everything we thought we knew, we have no other option but to accept that fact that he is the one. The missing piece of this overtly extended puzzle game.”

“…”

“I know you care about him…”

“I do. It is idiotic and senseless but I do.  I… I cannot believe it. I am sorry. Nothing makes sense.”

“You have seen what it does once. The effects, no-the toll it takes on the individual. I imagine it would be terrible for you to see it happen, especially to him. The same way I think it would be easier for you to stay in denial rather than face the truth.”

“I would not wish that-that calamity upon anyone, not even my worst enemy. And you know me; I’ve always been more of a skeptical. When I really see it happen, then I’ll believe it. Until then I’d rather not talk about this anymore.”

“Hmph. I wonder…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Tell me again” he pleaded with Cor, turned on his side and propped his cheek on his arm looking at the man with big puppy eyes that were mildly deterred by the barrier of the glasses he now had to wear.

A few days before he turned nine he was diagnosed with moderate myopia; more often than not Prompto had to squeeze his eyes to be able to read signs at a considerate distance from him and sometimes, when he watched TV, he couldn’t see the figures as clearly as he used to, their faces a little bit blurry at the edges. Cor had noticed the symptoms and had taken him as soon as he could to the closest ophthalmologist to get him an eye examination. The results had been clear.

And now there he was, the blond chubby boy peering at Cor behind his first pair of glasses.

The Crownsguard sighed and ran a hand through his short brown hair. He was sitting next to where Prompto laid on the bed, on the chair the boy had used those first few months in the house (in Insomnia) to be able to reach his favorite book-the one that for some reason always ended up on the top shelf of his closet.

“Prompto, it’s nine already. I’m very tired and tomorrow-“the man said exasperated, knowing he was fighting a losing battle, before the blond boy interrupted him.

“I know what tomorrow is.” He grumbled. How could he forget about it when his stomach lurched every time the mere thought surfaced to the forefront of his mind? When his hands got clammy and disgusting just thinking about what tomorrow had in store for him? Nope, there was no way he’d forget, in fact, he believed it would only turn for the worse-this anxiety within him-the moment he dared close his eyes, knowing he’d only end up assaulted by nightmares, knowing he was in for a long, sleepless night. Unless, Cor decided out of the kindness of his heart to tell the story one more time so Prompto could get distracted and drift off to dreamland slowly, gently with the man’s voice acting as a lullaby of some sort. That would be ideal. At least, he wouldn’t be alone.

“Just… Please, just one more time and I swear I won’t bother you anymore. Please, pretty please Cor?” He begged, pouted in that way he had been taught ages ago, in the way he knew would disarm adults. He was playing dirty but he needed this with increasing urgency.

The man, not impressed by the boy’s shenanigans, looked at the ceiling rubbing his temples with two fingers. “And you promise you will go immediately to sleep, no comebacks and no more whining?” Prompto grinned and promised, his heart already beating in excitement.

“You know what? Fine, I’ll do it.” Cor agreed tiredly, a smile creeping unto him despite his unwillingness “For the second time today, here we go.”

“Once upon a time, there was a powerful man who traveled across the immensity of Eos accompanied by his group of friends. His entourage and him were both feared and admired for their grand power…”

All traces of tiredness in his voice were suddenly gone. In an instand, Cor had turned from a weary, tired man to the storyteller who had told Prompto the legend of the Crystal and the Lucis line. His eyes shined with a particular spark he never showed, with a passion he never used for anything else but this curious tale.

The tale began and the boy was delighted, feeling his sense of reality blend and distort thanks to the words coming from Cor’s lips.

Soon, Prompto was captivated by this forever new, forever intriguing vision of Eos he had not seen before; this enchanted land rediscovered by a man who possessed the power of the elements and his three friends who aided him in his spontaneous quest. They did not know where they were going, what they were supposed to do-all they cared about was the earth who gave them birth and uncovering every little secret it had to share. This usually involved fighting against unknown creatures, the ever present threat of daemons, even other human beings (Prompto assumed it had to be a reference to the ongoing struggle between Lucis and Niflheim and he still shivered now, thinking of that dark kingdom he had lived in during his formative years). They met tons of people, encountered different locations: sand covered terrains, earth made of fire, miles and miles of snow and ice, storm ridden forests…

 But their most interesting discovery, the one that was meant to change everything they thought they knew was the day they found the tribe of myths, the ghost of many legends unknown by common folk. Near the border dividing Lucian territory from Niflheim, the man and his friends crossed paths with The Farseers. On frozen ground, they met a small village of humble looking people dressed in animal fur, skin decorated with tribal tattoos and  attired in rough made jewelry.

These strange nomads shaded in riddles and mystery that welcomed the group of foreigners with uncanny familiarity, as if they already knew they were coming, gave off airs of wisdom and knowledge the adventurers could only hope to accomplish after years of walking the entirety of Eos.

They were received with open arms, taken into the daily lives of this society they had believed to exist merely in children’s wild imaginations. And they understood then that every rumor, every whisper, every story told around a campfire had been true. These were the people of legends, these were the people many spoke of in awe, these were the first inhabitants of the world as they knew it. These people, they had access to the future and beyond, could see what no one could.

Naturally, the leader of the group was immediately taken in by these unraveling of events, amazed at the fact that they had been led to this place, maybe by the hands of unknown forces, and decided to stay and observe them for as long as he could.

However, from here onwards, his importance to the story diminished for the real core of it resided in one of his friends. The most nondescript, the most quiet, the most solemn-the one who nobody would expect to be important enough or interesting enough to be the main star of his own adventure. Because in reality this was his story, a story that was branched out of another that, at first glance, seemed way greater, seemed bigger in the grand scheme of things.

This was the tale between him and the girl he fell in love with: The Seeress.

“The moment he first laid eyes on her,” the Crownsguard said “he knew she was the one. At the main tent, where the group had an audience with the actual tribe leader in order to ask permission to remain among the Farseers-that was when he saw her. She stood by her chief’s side; a young girl of halcyon hair and the prettiest smile he had ever seen adorning her gentle, round face.”

Cor looked straight at Prompto but even so the child could tell the man’s sights were somewhere far beyond the four walls of his small bedroom, eyes glazed with melancholy and… was that, perhaps, grief?

“But it was her eyes, I think, what made him really notice her otherworldly beauty” as he said this, his voice lowered a few tones “Yes, her eyes sung so many secrets, so many possible doors, a world full of options and possibilities and she knew what was behind each and every one of those doors. Had seen and experienced it all at her young age. And still, despite knowing so much, she smiled at him in earnest, unafraid of the future she had to know was to come… Honestly, who could blame him for falling for that kind of smile?”

He chuckled. Prompto felt something unpleasant twist in his stomach at the sound. For how happy he looked, there was just an off vibe Cor was giving off. It didn’t feel right and it certainly did not look right.

“The transition from friends to lovers was surprisingly natural. Of course, she was the one who constantly pursued him and forced him into conversations more often than not. She was special in that way, could tell immediately he was not the type to interact with strangers unless he absolutely had to. So she took her time to break him out of his shell, get him to lower down his defenses using soft prodding, kind words, and her sunny attitude to prove him she was… well, real. That he could trust her and just open up.”

“And that surprised him, because no one before, apart from his friends, had tried so hard to see him. Know him. This was too the first time he wanted to return the favor and get to understand her the same. Bit by bit, they learned each other’s ways and whys, the mechanisms on how to maneuver around each other. He learned of her wisdom, her strength, the burden she had to carry on her frail shoulders, her pain and suffering as a consequence of the visions she was forced to see, the future she had to choose-“

His voice died, a murmur overpowered by the sound of the stream and Prompto had to bite back a gasp of surprise at what he saw in the man’s eyes. Had to take a deep breath at the sudden squeezing sensation inside his chest, had the need to close his own eyes and not open them again for at least a whole week. He was too sensitive today, too attuned to feelings and that wasn’t always good. Astrals, he hoped he wasn’t in one of his odd reminiscing phases again. Just thinking about being put back in a closed space with another doctor had him reeling and exhausted, remembering the cold sweat on his skin as he tried to talk about a past that never took place.

He said nothing, curled his hand around the sheets and waited for Cor to turn back to normal.

Suddenly, he didn’t feel too good. Suddenly, he didn’t want to hear the end of the story, wishing to stay in that timeless period where nothing mattered but the timid meeting of palms and eyes, where all that counted was the fact that a man and a woman had fallen awkwardly in love in spite of the unfavorable circumstances surrounding them, in that ageless world where none of them had to leave the other. A world where they were happy with no consequences to pay.

“He had to leave her,” Cor would say later, he knew, eyes downcast and raw in ways he never was “Sooner or later the little adventure they both starred for a short period of time had to end. He had a duty to his friends and she had a duty to upkeep, even greater than his. She saw the future… and she… and she didn’t see one that showed the two of them together. Not the way they wanted. He couldn’t stay and she couldn’t leave.”

An impossible situation. Love that burned brighter than ten thousand suns. This love was not meant to last for long. The memories would never fade-the smiles, the conversation, the truths and confessions shared, but a reunion would not occur.

The ending was one and one alone.

And Prompto didn’t want to hear it. Not today.

He filled in the silence while still Cor said nothing, trying to keep him from uttering the hopelessly sad end to a sweet love story. “I-I don’t really-I’m better now. I kind of feel sluggish and I guess you’re tired too, right? You don’t have to continue.” Scared. Confused. Wanting. He wanted to let his thoughts simmer down in the solitude of night as he fought to conceal sleep. He wanted Cor to look at him with the usual dry fondness and sternness that characterized him so much, not the broken sad look the man who muttered old stories to the walls of his room gave him.

This was a vicious cycle he couldn’t hope to escape. The story he loved to hear and the man who hated to tell it.

Another impasse. Another paradox at play. Cor blinked as if waking from a nightmare-vein on his temple throbbing madly, pulse racing, heart heavy-and his unfocused pupils settled on the lump under the covers. On the mystery child that was a question mark and an answer himself. “Are you sure? Will you be able to sleep like this?”

He nodded because he had no words and because he was afraid his voice would break if he spoke out loud. There was nothing else to be said, nothing else to be explained. Cor nodded back at him and after wishing him good night he walked out of the room, his shoulders slumped, his footsteps loud in the overwhelming quiet. The repentant man running out with his sins hot on his heels.

The door closed.

Darkness engulfed him.

When sleep came to him, he dreamed of green dresses and long tresses of gold flowing in the autumn breeze.

 

* * *

 

Prompto huffed and slumped even further on his seat, arms crossed and seatbelt still firmly plastered to his chest. He looked out the car window at his right; his gaze caught small figures like himself walking in groups or alone, all of them heading inside that foreign building Prompto had safely avoided for two years since his arrival to Insomnia.

He swallowed and tried to ignore the sweat being exuded out of his every pore. “Why do I have to go?” he asked with false bravado and frustration at the man on the driver’s seat. It was easier to act like he was angry than admit how terribly scared he was of stepping out of the car, having to face this new world full of other human beings-even worse, other human beings who were his age. Those days on the road where he had met all kinds of people accompanied by the mysterious lady seemed so far away now. How had he been able to do it back then? He couldn’t remember.

Snuck into his right pocket, his camera was a solid promise, one he wanted to take and hold in between his shaky fingers like a safety blanket. He felt safer, more comfortable when there was the filter of his camera lenses separating him from the outside world, acting as a barrier he could hide behind and be the spectator instead of the actor for once. Looking at life through glass was how he endured the rare times Cor forced him to accompany him to the city beyond the door of his home and at present, he thought that would be the only way for him to last the entire day in the wretched building people liked to call ‘school’.

Last night he had been so anxious, so needy for something to distract him, turning and twisting on the bed, he had begged Cor to the point of death to tell him again and again the tale of the man and the woman who were never meant to last. Ironically his anxiety increased thanks to that little strange moment mid narration that left him uneasy and not excited at all, thinking about the doomed ending. The end of all good things. Hands pressed to glass and azure eyes peering into the sprawling city below, asking, wondering, demanding for the one who would understand the true meaning of loneliness.

That did not make sense at all. Sighing he pushed his forehead against the cool window and wished for a meteorite to fall down and destroy the frigging school already.

He sensed Cor’s frustrated gaze on the back of his neck. “Prompto, don’t you think you might be overreacting? You’re going to school, not war.” He hated how he sounded so reasonable and composed, as if Prompo’s fears were something stupid, a product of childish whims. “Look, nothing bad will happen to you. I can guarantee that. I was there, right in your place, right where you’re sitting and fretting. It was indeed long time ago but I went through the same experience nonetheless. And yes, it is annoying but nothing otherworldly. Believe me when I say you’re not the only brat who’s losing his mind about going back to classes.”

Prompto looked at Cor’s silhouette reflected on the window. His frowning lips but smoldering eyes, the ones he had looked at for signs of lies or threats a lifetime ago in this exact same car, afraid and scared, still very much the lost boy in the driveway, the boy who had gone through hell and survived, the boy who had been brought to life, the boy who had been reborn. And the eyes that promised him that he would not be harmed, that everything would be okay, that he could trust him. And the real smile. Smiling lips, awkward as they were, changed everything. _Trust me_ , they had said to the boy whose ribs poked out of skin. Trust him the boy had. Due do that trust, the choice made on the road to Insomnia, he had become the kid he was nowadays. Fed, happy, loved, taken care of, appreciated. It all went back to trust.

A hand, rough from handling hilts of swords and who knows what other weapons, fell softly on top of his shoulder. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t move. He waited for the man to speak.

“Do you trust me?”

Before his eyes flashed the scenes of his past. His hand in the air reaching for what was already gone. His curled form on the hard ground as he watched human nature at its worst. His blurry sight, shivering inside a tent as the man who later promised him he’d never hurt him shouted, screamed and lashed. Their hands shaking as he chose to live.

Yes. He knew already what his answer would be, had known since that fateful day.

“Yes,” he turned around, uncrossed his arms. “I trust you”

“Good.”

The hand on his shoulder squeezed gently. Laughing mouth, “Everything will turn out alright, you’ll see.”

_C’mon, snap out of it. He’s right. A bunch of kids cannot compare to surviving out there and you’ve done that already. So. Snap. Out. Of. It!_

Taking a deep breath, lowering his arms, he agreed quietly, willing himself to open the passenger side’s door and step out of the car. His sweaty fingers closed around one of the straps of his backpack, the others pulled at his faded chocobo themed t-shirt that didn’t fit him quite as right as it once did as a result of his sudden weight gain and he tried his hardest to swallow the panic lodged in his throat.

He inhaled. He exhaled. Felt his bottom lip tremble. Sent a prayer to the Astrals asking them to give him the strength to pull this off.

When he finally climbed out of the automobile his legs almost gave out under the pressure, they were two jelly sticks undulating in opposite directions. Although he managed not to stumble, he could have easily ended up faced down on the pavement. What a great way to start this hell of a day. He took in the building where he would be studying for the next couple of years, ignoring the curious looks of passing kids that eyed him and the luxurious car he had gotten off from. Their looks were very much like daggers digging into his flesh but there was no turning back now. No point in avoiding the unavoidable.

He looked at Cor over his shoulder for the last time before going in. “See you at 3?” Nope. Totally not desperate. Of course the nervous hope in his voice could not be detected.

Cor shook his head at him and rolled his eyes. He really needed to stop doing that. Prompto was not sure about how he felt being an endless amount of stress for the man; he had enough responsibilities as it was.

“Who else is going to come pick you up? Silly child. Have a nice day, enjoy yourself and give them hell.” He winked at him, something Prompto had trouble processing because Cor did not wink (ever), and rolled all the car windows up again. And just like that, the black car sped up down the street, in the direction of The Citadel most likely. Leaving Prompto staring at its shiny behind sorrowfully.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure about this decision, Noctis?” His father had asked him that night, food untouched and his entire attention centered on his only son. He still saw him with those wary eyes he had fixed upon him after the Marilith attack. As if he was still seeing the child covered in blood and not the recovering boy that sat before him. Noctis wondered if his dad was aware of that. The way he looked at him.

No, he wasn’t sure. He was afraid. He was confused. He was tired. But most of all, he was lonely. He was the one who carried a burden he couldn’t possible begin to understand yet. Not how Luna (fair Luna, left behind in Tenebrae), Ignis (wise and smart, Ignis) and Gladio (his shield, his guard, the strongest out of the three) understood. And he needed desperately to get away from that. Feel normal again.

Where was the Noctis who laughed at stupid things? Where was the Noctis that climbed trees and talked to anyone that might listen? He didn’t know. He didn’t know.

So he answered, “Yes. I can’t be a stranger to my people, right? And I kind of want to be independent someday.” He laughed, hoped that the smile would not reveal the unease hiding underneath.

His dad had examined him then, pensive and silent for a few minutes and when he found what he seemed to be looking for in his face, he nodded to himself as if he had just confirmed something about Noctis he had not previously seen.

Two years later and there he was again, in that same position, being asked the same question-worded differently perhaps, but the intention remained- by none other than Gladiolus, thick eyebrows raised and skeptical tone. He was probably thinking Noctis was an idiot, as he usually did.

They were sitting on the stairs by the entrance of the palace, Ignis to his left merely watching the exchange between them. Waiting for the moment when things got heated to step in and act as the voice of reason. Meanwhile, he was content to observe and lay back, head tilted sideways like a bird. He wouldn’t get any support from the other child except for that inquisitive gaze of his; Gladio was all Noctis’ to deal with, how fun. And by that he meant how annoying. They had been having a great time until _someone_ forced the topic in the conversation-he was exhausted of having to explain every little thing he did to everyone.

“Do you really wanna do this? Me and Iggy, we’ve never been to school and well, look at us. It’s not like going there is necessary or something. You could stay here and study with us if you wanted.”

No.

He would not stand for a caged existence. He had been injured, that much was true, but he had not been left a cripple. So if he had the chance to break free, why wouldn’t he take it?

“Guys, you do realize I can’t always depend on you, right?” is what he chose to say, the safest response at the moment.

Ignis snorted softly. Noctis, the boy who refused constantly to eat his veggies and slipped them smoothly onto his friend’s plate when he thought no one was looking. Noctis, the boy with nightmares waiting day and night by his door. Noctis, the boy who stared at empty air and murmured names of flowers. Noctis, the boy who had never interacted with other children his age asides from Ignis and Gladio. Asking for freedom. No, demanding freedom.

“Yes, we know. But you are the Prince, Noctis. We’re just saying it will be different than when you hang with us. There will be a lot of kids that will try to be friends with you just to show off. Because, again, you’re the Prince. You do realize that, don’t you?”

Turning his words back on him. Smart.

The young prince sighed and raised his eyes to meet the light of the biggest star in the universe, let it blind him momentarily. Bathed in sunlight, he drowned in an infinite sea of golden.

Dimpled smile. Blue eyes. Fingers on the verge of touching. Flowery scent.

His voice came out oddly comforted, “I know. People will try to get close to me because of who I am. I’m not as dumb as you‘d like to think Gladio. And I understand too what my duty is… but….”

His eyes burned; he closed them, multicolored splashes flashed behind his closed lids and he breathed in the cool Lucian breeze. “But there is-there is _life_ out there. I have responsibilities, I have duties but that-The point is, I’m still not there yet, where my dad is. Where I’m supposed to be when I get older. I just turned ten. And, I think, life has to be more than _this_.” He motioned with both hands to everywhere around him, “It has to be more than the four walls of my bedroom and the long hallways, it has to be more than being a pampered kid sitting alone and doing nothing. I want to see at least what it’s like out there until my time finally comes.”

He finished and silence reigned. Ignis and Gladio exchanged confused and surprised stares. How mature, how different, how old yet how impossibly young sounded their small friend. Their small friend with a scarred back and a future clouded in uncertainty. Their friend, the future king that would not be like any other, this they knew without really comprehending why, basic instinct seared into their very bones.

It was the bespectacled boy who spoke this time, “I can see where Gladio’s concern stems from, I shared those same doubts myself. But I can also see your point, Noctis.” He stood up, brushing invisible dust from his new slacks. The sun reflecting off his glasses made it impossible to distinguish his eyes. “At the end of the day, it’s your life and it’s in your hands what you decide to do with it. If you want to go to school, do so. If instead you would prefer to stay with us, so be it. Either way, no matter what you choose, we’ll stand by your side.”

And then a smile, small, barely there but it warmed Noctis to his center.

A strong slap between his shoulder blades. “What he said.” Gladio added, with hints of awe in his eyes after Ignis’ little speech. “I guess I could cut you off some slack. You might even surprise me and not be totally hopeless.”

He felt his own lips move of their own accord and the nest thing he knew, he was smiling too.

“And here I thought you were going to be nice for a change.”

“Ha. I would pay anything to see you trying to befriend anyone. Now that would be true entertainment, definitely more fun and less painful than watching you training with a sword.”

The wise and the strong, the future advisor and shield. The two boys he had known for as long as he could remember, the two boys who had to mature in advance, right now they laughed and joked by his side. Behaved they way the should have been allowed, the way other kids in other parts of Insomnia probably did. Promised they would stand by his side.

He was not leaving them behind. He wasn’t tired of them either. For better or for worse, even as he sometimes complained, they were the beginning. The start. The place, the home, the starting point where he would always return to no matter how far he strayed.

Alright.

“You’re not funny, Gladio.”

* * *

 

On a Monday, two children from very different backgrounds woke up at the same exact hour.

Their destination was the same.

The first woke up in his humble home, winced when the clock alarm screeched too loudly, announcing the beginning of the dreaded new day with its terrible hollering. Alarmed, his legs got entangled with the sheets and as he tried to disentangle himself, he ended up on the floor of his bedroom, a mess of limbs and fabric. The man, who took care of him and had stayed the previous night in order to drive him to his destination, immediately went to check on him to make sure he was okay.

After his waking up fiasco, he bathed. Dressed slowly, no energy in his arms as he pulled on a shirt and shorts. And he stared at his body in the mirror. His protruding stomach, chubby legs, chubby arms, chubby face, chubby fingers. The freckles he possessed no fondness for, the eyes displaying dislike for the changes his body suffered-the eyes that couldn’t stay focused on one part of his body for too long without averting them in shame.

Next he proceeded to have breakfast with his guardian, noticing his slightly out of character behavior. Sometimes he paused mid bite and stared at the wall behind him. Burning holes in empty air.

And suddenly he pointed out, “His Majesty’s son will be joining school today as well. You should try to talk to him. He is a shy kid, kind of a loner. I’m sure he’d appreciate the company.”

How could he not know? Every day for the last couple months there had been nothing but talk of the Prince and the King’s abrupt announcement of his son integrating to common school education. The black haired boy that he-

He stared. His fingers, clutched around his fork, jerked and let go of the silverware in open surprise.

“What the hell, Cor?”

“Language!”

The second boy woke up in his royal chambers and traced every step of his usual routine.

That strange feeling took over him again when he looked in the bathroom mirror (saw his tired face, his still sleepy eyes, his hair mussed from sleep, the youthful face that was eerily similar to Regis’s at his age) when he thought he saw tufts of yellow behind the glass. Disturbed, he met with his father for breakfast. Just the two of them on opposite sides of the long mahogany table. And somehow, he couldn’t pinpoint what exactly, but there was something out of place, a different atmosphere settling about them. Just like the calm before the storm, expectant and high strung with tension.

 A wire waiting to snap.

“How are you feeling, son? Nervous, I imagine.”

“Not really…”

Small talk. Pointless conversation. It was a tad awkward. He imagined it was because the one actually nervous about him going to school was his father. Noctis? Noctis was just full of simmering excitement hidden under a façade of indifference. That was starting to become his MO as of lately; acting non interested in what truly interested him.

His father’s next words surfaced out of nowhere: “Has Cor ever mentioned the boy he has been taking care of?”, too casual, too suggestive. “He told me he is starting school today, the same one you are going to and that it’s his first time assisting one.”

He swallowed nothing. Was able to tell what his father did not say out loud. And he remembered the first time he heard of this mystery child Cor had taken under his wing. He remembered being eight years old and unexpectedly emotional at the idea of getting to know another kid. But when he had asked the Crownsguard, the man had been strangely tight lipped about it and changed the subject every time Noctis tried to pry information out of him. As the months passed, he simply lost interest. Now though, he felt compelled to know, to just-

“What is his name?” his tongue acted on its own, his words drenched in hurried urgency.

His father’s eyes darkened and his expression turned somber, business like, the tone the man in the throne room used.

“His name, Noctis, is Prompto Argentum.”

* * *

 

So far, so good. He had entered the classroom a few minutes ago and nothing traumatizing had happened to him yet so that counted as a small victory. The hallways, crawling with children and noise, had been another animal entirely; he had walked as fast as he could with his short legs, shoulders hunched and gaze lowered in order to avoid making eye contact by accident, and aside from the casual shoulder brushing, it hadn’t been that terrible as he had first imagined.

The important part in all this is he survived, and now he sat on the first desk next to the windows, safe and calmer than when he had climbed out of Cor’s car. Prompto, the true survivor. The King of Risk. His first day of school was proving to be less awful than what TV liked to show him.

He was alone since he decided to enter his homeroom early and while he waited, he browsed through his photo gallery. It contained several pictures of the interior of his house taken from several angles; there were some ridiculous ‘selfies’ (nothing below the neck), some pictures of Cor’s annoyed face (the man hated photos with a passion but allowed him to do as he pleased), others of many pages from Eos Mithology…

His style was obviously a far cry from an expert’s and the artists he admired but he liked to think he had potential. Yes, he might have stumbled upon photography entirely on accident but the connection had been so swift, so immediate-fire catching on wind and growing out of control-he couldn’t help but think that this could become his passion. That part of him that made him unique and relevant, different from others (and no, whatever the thing on his wrist was did not count).

Taking advantage of the empty state of the classroom, he dared to snap a few pictures from the back and then took shots of the courtyard that could be glimpsed through the windows. He was just taking his last picture when, at once, it happened.

His finger froze on top of the shutter, on the verge of pressing down. The small hairs on his nape stood on end and goose bumps appeared on his arms. Nights on the road hiding from monsters, his heart beating a thousand beats per minute, that was the reaction he relived in this moment, standing by the windows on shaky knees. In a way though, this sensation- it felt not quite as alarming as those instances in the wild, fighting to live another day as the lady used to say. It felt like… anticipation. It felt like long days lounging on the couch waiting for a certain something to happen. For the door to open and for someone, someone who was not Cor, to walk in. It felt like those times he turned around to make a comment, say something to the open space next to him where he could have almost sworn he had formerly seen the shape of a body. It felt like a dream.

Despite this unexpected flow of emotions he moved. Craned his neck, the rest of his body following along with the movement. His ankles, his hips, his torso and knees. Moving to meet the source of this rare, electric brand new….

Everything stopped, everything ceased to exist, his breath evaporated inside his lungs, his heart shrunk and crumbled followed by his cracking ribs and bending elbows and opening mouth and widening eyes. Free falling, being embraced in punishing wind and the certainty that you were going to die the instant you stopped but it was still amazing experiencing the drop of your stomach to your feet and the skin on your face pull back like a mask. That was what he felt. And it was also very much like the suicidal waiting for the train to rush towards them at high speed, knowing that when it reached them it would all be over and the sentiment of release could not be greater.

His soul burned. And he did not even had a clue of that was supposed to be like, could not describe it at all. Yet it did.

He didn’t know what was that paralyzed him first. The boiling blue eyes that met his. The face he had seen more than his own, on papers and pictures and now he realized no, papers and the internet could never do justice to a face like this. A face like his. Silky black hair like his. And the eyes. It was the eyes that drew him in and it began and it ended, a part of his life, a part of his being was born as he recalled a feverish dream two years ago, two months after arriving to Insomnia, in which a blond sixteen year old with freckles-the freckles he disliked so much but he was thin and lean and different-threw his arm around somebody’s neck and that somebody, that somebody left him breathless, drowning in a sea of blue.

Black hair, black clothes, aristocratic figures.

Regal eyes looking at him as if he were a dream.

He knew him and he didn’t know him.

The camera made a deafening sound when it touched the ground.

“Noct…”

The prince’s hand twitched at his side.

* * *

 

The woman made no sound, alerted no senses as she moved, floated across the room. The girl sleeping on the bed was not disturbed out of her slumber. She didn’t get enough rest as it was and the woman preferred to not take from her the precious moments where she could drift off to the land of dreams. She looked at her once more before stepping out of her room entirely, noting how the moonlight touching her young face made her look even younger. Like this, she was not the former princess, she was not the chosen girl. She was just like any other fourteen year old succumbing to sleep.

So young and she had already lost so much. Destiny was not kind on her and the future would not be better either.

Wind drifted in and fanned the long locks of ebony hair out of her physical’s form face.

She knew what she had to do.

Two furry creatures trotted quietly beside her while she walked down the hallway, tongues hanging out of their mouths comically. One was black, the other’s fur was a creamy color. Blessed beings. A gift to the Oracle.

She didn’t stop walking until she reached the double doors that led to the royal garden. By the time she got there, the night sky was filled with dark clouds threatening to rain down on the unsuspecting people below. It was a sign. From her fellow… huh, she couldn’t find a proper word to refer to them. But it didn’t matter anyway. They were displeased by her course of actions, her sudden need to rectify what didn’t need meddling.

They didn’t understand. They who stayed apart and rejected humanity. They who chose an eternity of solitude. They who had not seen what she had seen or maybe they had but deemed too… human to matter.

Everything mattered to her.

_Clink._

“What are you doing?” Deep voice. Smooth tone. No longer a child. No longer the little boy that smiled and gifted her flowers while blushing red on every Valentine’s day (that weird human tradition she couldn’t begin to make sense of after centuries of living among them).

No longer the twelve year old that had slipped a flower ring on her finger (to her puzzlement and amusement), his mismatched orbs burning with determination, promising he would marry her when he got older, when he became the man he was expected to be. Binding them in a pool of uncertainty.

He had grown. He was taller, (he had barely reached her hip once, he had barely reached her shoulder once, he now stood bigger than her) he had had gained muscle on his wiry arms and skinny legs. His face was angular, composed of sharp cheekbones, cheeks that would never blush as they did before, eyes that shined with rage and hatred not with joy and kindness, an attractive cupid bow and that frown that it seemed to have taken permanent residence on his visage. Pale blond hair reached his chin and she could perfectly remember running her fingers through his soft strands, rubbing his scalp gently, carefully (careful not to hurt him; sometimes she forgot her own strength). Tenderly.

He was broken.

He was beautiful.

He was painfully human.

(That face. That emotion. There was no way she would ever forget the pain, the sorrow and the betrayal on his blood stained face-his mother’s blood-while he looked at the father of the King of Kings run away, leaving them to a life of imprisonment.

The beautiful, beautiful boy painted in his progenitor’s life source. Lips open in mercy, lips begging to be saved.

Terribly alive.

So alive.

And so human)

He was human.

“Master Ravus.” She said. Because that was all she could say. “Awake at such hours? Lack of sleep drives the body to the brink of collapse. You should-“

“I’m no child. You don’t fool me, Gentiana. You’re up to something.” He seethed. Because that was all he had learned to do now.

She didn’t say anything. She stayed put in her place, engaging in a silent challenge with the boy that used to love her.

When he received no answer from her, he merely shook his head, whispered something under his breath that she picked up due to her enhanced hearing, “Whatever. It doesn't concern me, whatever it is that you freaks do.” And walked off without sparing another glance in her direction.

It was… painful. It bothered her. She would ponder about this pain later.

She looked at the female dog, her olive eyes now open and commanding. The little dog whined and sat on the back of its paws. She picked her up slowly, elevated her until they were on eye level.

“You know what to do. Your mission must be fulfilled as soon as possible. Find the boy blessed by Etro, find the eyes meant to foresee the changes in the timeline. I can sense it, feel it. Change has begun, the tides are turning.”

Then, she put Pryna back on the ground and she had to say no more for when she opened the doors, the dog scurried past them, little legs moving fast, and faded away into the black of night to be found much later by the boy who would define history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for making you wait so long but I hope you enjoyed this chapter♥♥♥Don't forget to comment since your reviews give me energy to continue, it doesn't matter if it's one sentence long, I'll appreciate it anyway :3


	11. meadowlands vibrant with flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm just going to leave this here...

_If anyone asked me what the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes upon was, I would undoubtedly answer the child in the meadow. Nothing had ever shined as brightly for me as he did that day, not a thing could compare to his carefree beauty as he twirled and danced, gangly limbs extended in mid air-a testimony of his still developing youth-, his red robe fluttering along with the movement, the breeze blowing lion hearts around his shimmering frame._

_The sun reflected glimmers on both his hair and his pearly white smile. I remember I stood there, not quite hidden in the shadows but still far enough for him to not notice my enchanted presence, gawking silently at such harmless display of happiness; it was beautiful, the entirety of it, the sheer innocence and naivety the boy showed, all of them qualities the world and the people in it had ceased to express long ago, hardened by cruel circumstances and the primal fear of revealing vulnerability to possible threats ~~(the entire world is a threat)~~ which is a fear that also continues to pursue me even now. But in that moment, as I watched the boy laugh so freely, the fear was gone. _

_In his actions, in the way he moved, there was no such fear-the inherent fear that came to plague the world, or at least, the world I knew-, in its place there was only… light. Calm, relaxing light. He was beautiful._

_I was afraid to approach him, suddenly fearing that if I dared touch him with these tainted hands of mine I would surely tarnish his pureness. There was a time where I would have scoffed at these self deprecating thoughts but if there is something I have learned throughout the years, is that people are victims to constant change and I am no exception to this universal rule. What once I had deemed to be the mindless, envious and ignorant ramblings of those scared of the unknown (whom have now multiplied increasingly) are currently arguments even I cannot fully deny or claim to not understand._

_Little did I know then, as I needlessly fought with my inner need to get close to this little source of light, was that I did not need to fret for it was the child who came to me, at last, out of his own volition. His eyes found me somehow, pinning me with his wide eyed stare, his bony legs stopped spinning and so did the rest of his small body. A lion heart fell on top of his head and our staring match was cut short for a second as I witnessed him furrow his brow before shaking his head rapidly to get rid of it and I was strongly reminded of a certain bird who did the exact same action when it wanted to clean its feathers. Beautiful, I thought, beautiful, beautiful, so beautiful and how had I never seen something, someone like him before in my entire life?_

_And I was not proud of myself as the little creature skipped towards me and I felt my heartbeat spike to ridiculous levels, clammy palms and goose bumps typical of my eight year old self included. Faster than what I was able to process, he was there, within touching range. I could touch him if I stretched my arm slightly, feel the silky fabric of his clothing beneath my trembling pads. He was barely half my height. Frail, tiny boy looking up at me with bright irises that made me dazed in the best way imaginable._

_I was a goner from the very beginning._

_“Hello,” he said shyly, clasping his palms together and. Oh. There was a sunflower tucked behind his flushed ear. I had not seen it at first. I itched with want to grab the flower._

_“Hello,” I answered automatically, tone low because I was afraid of scaring him away._

_“Are you lost? Or maybe you’re new here-“_

_His voice. His voice was the sweetest tune, the most beautiful sound I had ever been graced with. Beautiful in every sense was the boy in the meadow, the start and the end of all things. With him, everything was set in motion, with him, everything was set to conclusion._

_My downfall: his toothy smile as his shyness made way for his inner light, “Wait, you’re the one her Holiness Nyra said would come today, right? To help with the sick?”_

_I couldn’t help but smile back. That was certainly one way to put it. My skin still crawled and my insides still simmered with the heaviness “helping” others provided me each time. It didn’t use to be like this, when I was younger the effort was nowhere near as taxing as it is now, I didn’t always have to close my eyes and focus on anything tangible to keep me grounded in the present, to keep me from drifting to much darker and unpleasant areas…_

_All I could do was nod, I didn’t have any words for him and my mind was oddly scattered, rendering me unable of forming coherent sentences at the moment._

_Then, to my utter bafflement, the boy’s eyes welled up fast with unshed tears and grabbed both of my hands in his much smaller ones. His skin was rough and not smooth as I expected it would be, probably due to living in the wild and having to perform tons of manual work._

_“Thank you, sir! Thank you so much!” he cried, managing to look fetching while wearing grief on his face. “You saved many of our people! And my- my friend…! He was changing, he was… he was fading away… I didn’t know if he would make it… I wanted to tell him so many things and I thought that I’d never….But he’s safe now, he’s safe and normal... And thank you!!”_

_I blinked and nodded once more but this time it was because I was actually moved by his words. Rare had become the occasions in which people thanked me and to hear this open and real expression of gratitude was refreshing and ~~heartwarming~~ different. I sensed that the emotion in his words was true and right there on the meadow, it was what truly mattered._

_I cleared my throat and tried to come up with something to say that would distract him from his crying. “Your friend… Can you describe him to me? I tended to so many people from your village today, I can’t remember them all. I’m sorry.”_

_He let go of my hands and I thought it pathetic, how quickly I yearned for his warmth to return. And missed it even more when the child of the meadow began describing in high detail his ‘best friend of all times’-a twelve year old boy I recalled cleansing earlier- how he looked, his personality, the things he liked, what he didn’t, how long they had known each other, talking on with a blush slowly crawling up  to his cheeks._

_Ah, it was with a sting I understood just then, as the beautiful boy spoke in his equally beautiful voice, that red was a color that became him._

_~~His heart was not mine to have.~~ _

_He talked. I listened intently, not wanting to miss any word that fell from his lips. A mess of confusing trains of thought and desires, of impulses and reactions: that was the **me** in the meadow. _

_At the end of the day, he gave the sunflower behind his ear._

* * *

 

_By the time we finished talking and I decided to go back home (the journey back was  awfully long) dusk was already setting in._

_On my way past the humble houses I caught the eye of her Holiness Nyra standing somberly by her faithful watcher’s side. She was awfully young, barely fifteen, yet her green eyes, they reminded me of her predecessor, the man who died of a mysterious disease the day she was born. They were hard like a blade sharp’s end and watered as well, giving the impression that she was always struggling with something; her burden was great after all._

_However, the eyes that stared at me that day were not filled with the usual resolve and stillness. They were sad, impossibly so.  It was the type of look one would give a suffering animal on the road and wondered whether it would be more humane to end its torment than let it drown in its pain. Her eyes, always seeing, always reaching, always knowing. She knew, I thought. Perhaps she knew what was on my mind, that there was not a thought then that did not revolve around the boy I met on the meadow._

_She never stopped looking at me like that after that day. Every time I came back to visit, she looked at me as if she wanted to shed tears for me but found herself incapable of doing so because in some ways even that would be a betrayal of her vow to not reveal the secrets of time bestowed on her._

_Perhaps she already knew what would become of me as a result of our disastrous meeting and what would happen not too long after._

_No._

_There is no universe where she didn’t know about this wretched fate. Otherwise, why would she give me that disgustingly heartbroken look? As if I was one step away from vanishing before her observing eyes?_

_I detest her for that. I hate that she watched him grow along with that brainless friend of his, watched him glow and obliterate with his brilliance everyone around him and could not muster one drop of pity to tell him the truth. ~~Tell me the truth.~~_ ~~~~

* * *

_“Don’t you think it would be ridiculously romantic?” he asked in his still melodious voice, five years later from our first encounter, to the annoyance sitting next to him. He was painfully beautiful now, possessed the kind of features that could slice through any barriers, including my own. He had come a long way from the skinny child he was, and I don’t think it was physically possible for me to want him anymore than I did._

_“Are you insane? What makes you think- You know what? I’d rather not know what possesses you to think that.” The other teenager huffed and pulled a bunch of grass from the ground to throw it in my darling’s face, who spluttered and smacked him in the head rightfully for dirtying his hair._

_“No, you actually do care. So I’m going to tell you. It’s just…”_

_“…It’s just?”_

_“Aha! Knew you were playing hard to get. Anyway, it’s just the whole concept of it is pure romance through and through. Like… Like the Originals! Or Lady Nyra and Xander! They bowed to stay forever by each other’s side and he is like her knight in shining armor in a strange way. He will forever protect her and remain with her and-“_

_“….I don’t know. Maybe if the circumstances were different... But yes, they do love each other. I’m not blind. But Lady Nyra… she always looks sad and because she is sad Xander is too. It’s like there’s a constant dark cloud over their heads that just won’t leave them alone. Being able to do what she does- I find it hard to believe they would be totally and blissfully happy as you claim so passionately.”_

_“Ah. Excuses, excuses. You’re no fun at all”_

_“Isn’t it enough with what we have?”_

_“It is enough silly. It has always been. I just love riling you up. Hehe. But seriously, don’t you want to be my knight in shining armor dear?”_

_“Technically, I already am. I did promise you to protect you forever, till the day we both die, didn’t I? And I do not need to be a Guardian for that, nor you need to be the Seer.”_

_“Let a guy dream! I’m just saying it would be nice if in some other life, or something similar, we had that kind of bond.”_

_“Etro, I beg you Goddess, don’t listen to this lunatic’s senseless  ramblings!”_

_“No, Goddess, I beg you, heed my plea!”_

_Laughing, smiling, blushing. Kissing lips underneath a starry sky, hands grabbing and pulling at each other’s clothes. Frantic murmurs of promised love and endearments. The growing chasm of my acid bitterness swallowing me up as I looked upon what shall never be mine being loved and adored the way I burned to do._

* * *

 

_If anyone asked me what was the most horrible thing I had ever laid eyes on, I would undoubtedly answer the sight of red on him that cursed day. That wrong shade, that wrong smell, how terrible it looked in contrast to his pale skin and clothes. Once I said the color red was becoming on him. I was wrong._

_I held him in my arms, his cold, unmoving, devoid of light body, so heavy in my arms, and his head, freezing, cold, cradled against my chest. I remembered him laughing. I remembered him twirling and dancing on the meadow of lion hearts, lion hearts white and pure like the dancing boy. I remembered his blushing cheeks, his shy smiles, his loud laugh, his vibrant personality. How his mere presence gave life to an entirely ordinary village. His hand on mine as he gifted me the sunflower behind his ear, the sunflower that couldn’t rival with the boy’s beauty. I remembered him as the only real thing in my life, the only thing that mattered. The only thing I ever truly desired. His kind and real words, he never lied to me, never betrayed me, never approached me with ulterior motives or ill intentions. He was real. Everything he did and said was painfully real._

_Gone._

_Gone._

_His skin was white and pasty as wax, the skin I held in my arms, the skin I had the opportunity to touch before it lost its essence. The sole color on him was the still fresh stain of red on his white shirt. The red covering my hands, covering his innocence. His eyes would not open anymore, not for me, not for anyone. His mouth would never speak again and his arms would never hug me again and his legs would never take him places any longer and-_

_Why were there droplets on his grey cheeks? Why was my vision blurry?_

_Nineteen years old._

_Nineteen years old._

_Lady Nyra looked at me from the sidelines, silent tears descending down her solemn visage. I hated her, but it wasn’t her who possessed the entire focus of my hatred, not that day, not in that moment, she wasn’t the one I detested the most. It was the useless crying man child not too far away from where I kneeled holding his body close to me (afraid of letting go). It was the boy I saved seven years ago (he wasn’t worth it), the child who owned his heart then and refused to free it from his selfish grasp, the boy who promised him he would defend him, the boy who ultimately failed to full fill a promise and I absolutely despised him for what he did._

**_~~His fault.~~ _ **

**_~~His fault.~~ _ **

**_~~If he didn’t exist, the boy in the meadow would have-~~ _ **

**_~~Would have-~~ _ **

_He took him from me, because of him **my light** died away._

_Because of **him** he died away._

_~~I would kill him the first chance I received. I would gut him like an animal and enjoy every second of it.~~ _

_The boy in the meadow with the beautiful smile was the first thing to go, the first important thing I lost and it wouldn’t be too long before I lost the rest._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from the song Ashes of Dreams (English Version) that belongs to the wonderful OST of my favorite game NIER. Totally recommend listening to it, it's amazing and you'll love it. Hope to see your comments dear readers and thanks once more for reading this weird fic :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you (pun not intended) so much for reading this and lots of hugs to whoever gets the reference at the end, that was cruel on my part but I'm not sorry e.e If you ever want to talk to me about this fic, the AU in general or talk to me about Final Fantasy XV or whatever you can always find me at tumblr-------> thirstyforhughdancy
> 
> Remember to leave comments and kudos behind, they feed my writer hungry soul <3


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